Reincarnation (Re-Write)
by Lord Traya
Summary: Harry James Potter sat in the Headmaster's chair at Hogwarts with a ring on his fingers, a wand in his hand and a cloak wrapped around him, slowly he closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew a blonde bombshell of a woman and a massive black haired, blue eyed man were calling him their son. Worst of all, he had this need to shit, cry and eat at the same time. All the time!
1. Chapter 1 - Reincarnated

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - Reincarnated**

 **Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter is not mine.**

 **A/N: 25/02/2018, Re-written.**

* * *

-1-

Cersei Baratheon held her recently birthed child, Robert II Baratheon in her tired arms close to her breast. She was utterly exhausted, after hours upon hours of labor she had finally given birth to her first child. Her only grievance was that he had black hair and blue eyes instead of her own green eyes and blonde hair. Nevertheless, Cersei fell in love with her beautiful baby the moment she laid eyes on him. Robert had been ecstatic, his bright blue orbs practically shining with joy. He actually looked sober for he first time since they were married.

"We may have never seen eye to eye but for this, for him... I will try. The boy deserves a family and so much more; we will give it to him." Robert whispered to her as he beheld his first born son and heir, frozen in awe.

"Y-you can name him if you'd like." she stuttered out weakly, the fatigue threatening to send her into a deep rest.

"Robert..." the King said slowly, Cersei smiled wryly at the terrible naming sense but alas, she had given her permission. "After you?" she said, raising an eyebrow prompting Robert to answer.

"Yes after me." the King chuckled, his deep voice rumbling throughout the chamber.

"This boy will be the man I never was, the man I've always wanted to be. He will be a better King, a better father, warrior" here Robert turned to the grimacing Cersei and continued "-and most of all, a better Baratheon than I ever was." He kissed the top of the baby's head and returned the boy to his mother.

"That's nice and all, but you both cannot be called Robert now can you?" Cersei said as she held her child close to her breast.

"No we can't, I'll let you handle that one." the King laughed and bid the mother and child good night before making his way out, leaving them to rest.

"Not even a day's old and you're already changing Westeros from the top, My little black Lion...my dear Robin. Even if you're not Jaime's, you're still mine." she said.

The Queen took a deep breath and placed her sleeping baby beside her, trusting her handmaidens to place him in his proper crib by the time she was awake.

* * *

News of the Crown Prince's birth had reach every corner and crevice of Westeros, even beyond the wall and some parts of Essos. Everyone of note send their congratulations and gifts. Most were trying to curry favor with the ruler of the land, they were promptly ignored by the King, who only bothered to open a few letters, mostly from friends and family, except one.

The last letter was from The Lord Tywin Lannister of the Westerlands. Robert just knew that vile old man would be up to something. Those 'Yellow Haired Shits' as he called them was always plotting something in their scheming little heads. Robert did not want anything to do with those people, they were poison of the highest degree.

Putting the Old Lion aside, Robert made his way to his chambers and smiled as he was greeted by a laughing Cersei who was tickling the baby, making it squeal in happiness. "Come Robin! You will be king one day, and a great warrior!" the Queen cooed at her child.

"Robin eh? That's a good name, strong one too." Robert said as he walked into the room, surprising Cersei. "I suppose so. He loves that name, giggles everytime I call it. Here, he's never really seen you has he?" Cersei asked as she held the baby at arms length, wanting Robert to take him. Silently, Robert took the Prince from her arms and brought the child close to his face.

"You look just like Renly when he was a babe!" Robert exclaimed as the baby stared into his eyes. The king was awestruck at how... bright his child was. He was so beautiful, his shining blue eyes were an exact mirror image of Robert's own.

"Aye boy, I'm your father!" the king chuckled as he lightly pinched the baby's puffy cheeks. Little Robin laughed at the action and brought his hands to Robert's face and started tugging on his beard, making the king wince lightly.

"He's a Baratheon alright." the king muttered, shooting a half-glare at the smirking Cersei. Looking back at his son, Robert smiled. This was _his son._ Already Robert's paternal instincts were rising up inside of him like a tidal wave.

'My son.. and wife eh?' he thought to himself as he looked at the still smirking Cersei.

Suddenly, the world wasn't so damned grey anymore. He had an actual son! A boy that would call him father and look up to him for guidance. Someone to leave his legacy to. Even now Robert could feel some of his old hatred fading away as he stared at his beautiful baby boy. The toothless smile was like a balm for his tired soul.

'I love you Lyanna.' he thought sadly in his head, and for the first time in what seemed like eternity, thepicture of the smiling Lyanna Stark in his head slowly reformed into that of beautiful son and wife.

'Yes, I think I have something to live for'.

* * *

Jamie Lannister of the Kingsguard was feeling conflicted. His lovely sister had just given birth to a black haired boy, it was a nephew instead of the son he was expecting. Jamie was confused, he wanted nothing more than to kill the child of Robert Baratheon, the child that wasn't his. The child that _should_ have been his. Instead, the King had taken that chance away from him. Jaime grip the pommel of his sword hard, not wanting anything more than to send the father-son pair to the afterlife personally.

The Kingsguard snorted derisively. Not even a day's old and the boy had already garnered a lifelong hatred from his own Uncle.

But Jaime also knew that his sister would hate him for it, for his eyes could see that Cersei loved the boy more than anything in this world, even more than him, that Jaime could see. No, he couldn't touch the boy. If the deed was traced back to him, the king's wrath would be upon his family. The same wrath the destroyed the Targaryens, leaving only two children across the narrow sea.

He had no doubt that the Lannisters would be scattered if not completely crushed underheel if he went through with his initial plan.

Smirking to himself, Jamie went to find his sister. After all, if he couldn't get rid of the brat, then why not impregnate Cersei with his? There was no rule saying that the Queen couldn't get pregnant now did it?

If the first one wasn't his then he would make sure the second would be a Lannister, through and through.

* * *

Harry James Potter was one confused wizard. The last thing he knew was sitting in the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was about to take a nap in his chair, and now he was a bloody baby with those small chubby hands and the urge to eat, shit and cry all at once.

'Alright now, no need to panic, lets take baby steps now' he thought before grimacing to himself at the unintentional pun, which looked ridiculous and out of place on his current face.

'Alright first things first! The blonde bombshell called me her son and the giant called himself me dad, don't remember their names but I'll get to that soon enough' he thought. 'Now judging by the fact that this woman really gave birth to me suggests that I was reincarnated, cursed or that someone messed around with my soul'

'Given the fact that I was born in a happy family and as a bloody _prince_ of an entire freaking Kingdom means that an enemy didn't do this.'

'So that leaves Reincarnation which means that...' suddenly he gasp in horror ' I died!?' He thought furiously. That was impossible! He was in the most protected place in Hogwarts! How the hell did he even die?

All he remembered was putting on the resurrection ring, talking to his deceased parents and putting on the invisibility cloak before going to sleep. 'You have got to be joking. After all that crap I went through I actually died in my sleep!?' he started fussing around in his crib, tears leaking from his eyes.

'Oh fuck you! Fuck all of you, you cock-sucking, shite-eating motherfucking son of goats!' he screamed, or at least tried to, it came out as a cry that alerted his wet nurse. 'I'm going to grow older, use magic, and take over everything! See how you like that asshole!' he screamed to no one.

Harry was extremely frustrated, not to mention absolutely pissed off. He felt as if someone had messed with his head, even now he could feel himself being suppressed... more accurately, the core of Harry Potter's personality being erased, to make way for this new body to create its own. Bah! who gives a shite about that! He was feeling famished!

"Is the little Prince hungry? Let me take care of that" the wet nurse giggled and took her top off, leaving Harry gasping in horror.

'N-no you p-pedophile! Get those tits away from me! I demand Rib-Eye! It's the least you could do for me after all that shi-ommph!' and the Prince of the Iron Throne was promptly smothered in his Wet Nurse's loving embrace.

* * *

 _286 A.C_

At five-years-old, Robin Baratheon was unusually smart of a boy his age. He was bigger than most boys his age and swinging tourney swords like they were made out of parchment. His father had credited it to his apparent 'Baratheon Blood' flowing through his veins which was supposed to make him genetically predisposed to fighting.

Harry, or Robin as he was called now just thought it was his magic fucking around with his body. Which was weird since he was a scrawny little bastard in his previous life, and he had fuck-tons of magic back then, god knows how much 'magic' did to help that.

"All it did was have Voldemort on my fucking arse for two decades." Robin muttered, causing the old cook walking by to gasp in outrage at his improper language.

It wasn't the first time Robin's mouth got the better of him. Cersei had been horrified to hear the barrage of vulgarity from her baby's mouth as he stubbed his toe onto his chair. The Queen had place the blame firmly on the Prince's manservant, assured that it was influence that had gotten to her little perfect Prince.

Poor bastard was flogged and imprisoned for a whole year without Robin's knowledge. The boy was only told that his manservant had to leave to take care of his sick mother. Robin was quite upset when he was told that he wouldn't see Peter again.

Too bad Cersei never knew that Robin had acquired quite a... colourful perspective on the English language during his time as Harry Potter, which his current body had inherited.

Not to mention the enormously large mental capacity that came with it. As Harry Potter, he was absolutely pathetic at the Mind Arts, it was something he had to work tooth and nail to even gain a semblance of proficiency at. It took a hundreds of Death-Eaters blasting Killing Curses at him to convince him he needed to be more than proficient.

As Robert II Baratheon, Occlumency and Legillimency was as easy as breathing. The Prince could dive into a person's mind, re-arrange their memories, influence their thoughts and sing a full Aerosmith song before leaving without the person noticing at all.

Although Robin's sense of Morals had always interfered with his willingness to use this ability to it's fullest. To the boy, a person's mind was not a book to be open and closed at his leisure. Doing so would be a terrible breach of privacy and not to mention, a violation of the highest order.

But then the memories of him and Snape's lessons, not to mention the "late night" meetings with Voldemort had prompted to just say "fuck it" and threw his morals out of the window. What had they gotten him in the first place? Death at nineteen and as a fucking virgin to boot.

Walking towards his chambers, Robin raised an eyebrow at the closed doors before smiling devilishly as an idea took root in his head. Getting off to a running start, the little prince jumped into the air and brought tucked his legs in, screaming wildly as he delivered a dropkick into the great wooden doors.

The poor girl preparing lunch on his table screamed so loud Robin was dead sure the whole castle had to plug their ears. Robin landed perfectly on his feet, laughing all the while at his maid's embarrassment.

The Queen had seen fit to place a proper Lannister maid to take care of Robin's needs. It was a beautiful red-headed girl named Jenny , with the most peculiar shade of green and blue eyes. The girl was brought over as one of Cersei's chambermaid from Casterly Rock. The Poor handmaiden had just just celebrated her ten and sixth nameday before she was told that she was moving to King's Landing.

She reminded him of his old girlfriend Ginny very much. Robin had taken a liking to her immediately, and was always demanding her to have meals with him after their daily walks in the gardens.

"I told you to stop doing that!" the girl half-yelled, shaking a fork at him.

"Relax Jenny!" Robin said, taking the fork from the girl as he sat on the chair.

"You're supposed to have classes with Grandmaester Pycelle right now aren't you? Don't tell me you skipped again!" she scolded, wagging her finger at him.

"Please Jen, Pycelle's an idiot. I mean - 'What is two plus two my prince?'-" Robin imitated the old Maester, making Jenny giggle.

"What kind of question is that?" Robin ranted, hands gesturing wildly much to the maid's amusement.

"Now now, be patient, you may be a genius but you are still five-years-old! Pycelle is just taking things slow." she placated him.

"Yeah whatever." he replied, stabbing his fork into the meat.

Robin sighed, every day his memories of his past life was getting hazier and harder to call upon. He had to struggle hard to even remember the faces of his friends and Parent...well except for Ginny, Robin could always go to Jenny for that. They looked so much alike Robin at first thought it was Ginny herself. He had glomped the former chambermaid at first sight, scaring and embarrassing the poor girl.

It was the awkward start of a lovely friendship.

"Listen Jen, after this I want to...Jen?" Robin blinked as he spoke to thin air, his maid having already walked off.

"Whatever." he muttered as he continued his lunch.

* * *

Afternoons were a bore for the young Prince, he never had so much freedom and was struggling to find something to occupy his time. Maybe he should start learning how to fight again? 'That could be fun.' he thought to himself as his wandered about the Red Keep.

Clenching his fist, Robin spun on his feet and slammed his fist against the cold hard stone wall. Hissing at the sharp pain, the Prince raised an eyebrow at the small indent on the wall, in a faded shape of his fist; which was as red as a sunburn. That would certainly be of great help for his training. His body was practically a cheat code in this medieval world.

The Prince didn't understand why his magic had manifested itself in this fashion. After thousands of times of trying to perform even the simplest of charms, Robin was at his wits end. He could feel his magic, pulsing and coursing through his veins. It was most definitely there but he just. couldn't. use. it!

Every attempt to use his magic in any way other than the Mind Arts did nothing but give him a slight headache. It was completely ridiculous! He was THE Harry Potter for god's sake! Even if it was a past life! It was he that slew the basilisk in the secret chamber! It was he that fended of a hundred Dementors to save Sirius Black! It was he that faced off against Voldemort and his Death Eater in an all out war!

Well, maybe he did receive a little help from other people.

'Now I can't even cast simple a light charm!' he cursed in his head. ' Well, at least _this_ happened to me.' Robin's upper lip twitched a little as he rubbed the same indent on the wall.

It appeared that the magic stuck in his body was somehow enhancing his physique. Robin had no doubts that he could take on the regular schmo twice or maybe even thrice his age in a fight.

He felt like he could run miles and not even break a sweat. Not to mention his ridiculous reflexes, this morning at breakfast when a servant accidentally knocked down a pitcher of wine Robin had caught it without even looking.

He wasn't about look a gift horse in the mouth, even if he preferred to be a Super-Powerful Wizard, being a good ol- Superhuman wasn't that bad either.

Making his way to the courtyard, Robin's eyes narrowed a bit as he spotted various knights and squires training themselves.

"I should start as soon as possible. God knows that a Stick and a Killing Curse wouldn't make an enemy drop dead. Not anymore at least." he spoke to himself.

* * *

Cersei Baratheon, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was worried. She were flabbergasted when one day, at dinner, Robin declared that he would be starting his training with the sword the next day.

Robert had a good laugh about it and immediately agreed, praising their son's enthusiasm and agreeing to lend Ser Barristan Selmy to Robin for the duration of his training. Cersei wanted to give her husband a good kick, although the man was much more open and helpful than before, he could still be daft sometimes.

Cersei immediately objected, making the men frown. She almost cooed at how alike Robin was to his father when his face was all scrunched up like that, but pushed the urge down as much as she could.

She was rejecting the idea of her precious baby dirtying himself in the field when he could be safe in the towers, studying with the Grandmaester, preparing himself to be a great King one day.

The Prince, with zest told her that a King who hid behind his walls was no King but a coward, and he was not a coward. The boy proceeded to step on his chair and jumped onto the table, thumping his chest and declaring that he would be the best fighter in the world.

Robert howled with laughter, clapping his hands and slapping the table, cheering his son on, nothing would move him now. The fuming Cersei was forced to agreed to it; in protest of course.

* * *

"Very Good my Prince! Block, Block! Yes! Sidestep, now attack!" Barristan instructed as young Robin sparred against a squire twice his age. It was a jaw-dropping sight, seeing a five namedays boy knocking a ten and twelve namedays squire around like it was nothing. Granted, Robin looked like he was nine with that body size.

Everyone had chalked it up to the blood, after all, wasn't his father the King the Demon of the Trident? It must have been natural born talent.

Barristan's eyes narrowed as he studied the boy closely. The Knight was known to be the most dangerous fighter in the world, uncontested in the art of the sword. He knew, he knew that that was _not_ natural.

The way the Prince kept poking at the defenses, prodding and looking for an opening. The way his eyes seemed to harden before a practice fight. The way he lured in enemies before finishing them off ruthlessly. That could not be learnt in just a month.

"Good! Now shake hands!" Barristan yelled as Robin used quite the unorthodox tactic to beat his opponent. The boy completely ignored the proper way to duel by throwing his tourney sword like a spear, hitting his opponet in the face. Making use of the distraction, Robin leapt like a tiger and rained down a barrage of fists, knocking him down and forcing him to yield.

If that really was Natural talent, then Barristan was sure that this boy was blessed by the gods themselves.

* * *

 _ **To be Continued**_

A/N: Re-Written twice, lol.


	2. Chapter 2 - To Casterly Rock

**Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter do not belong to me**

 **A/N: Chapter has been Rewritten. 25/02/2018**

* * *

-2-

Robin groaned pitifully as he landed on his bed, not bothering to discard his dirtied clothes. It was dusk and he was absolutely exhausted, Barristan was a demon when it came to training. Robin thought the old man was taking the piss when he was ordered to fight the entirety of the Lannister Guards before going a round against the Lord-Commander himself. Robin's confidence in his so called 'Superhuman abilities' was shattered into a million pieces as Barristan knocked him down again and again without any visible strain on his part.

This was the Barristan-Style training, and by god it was hell.

Robin had never, never done any exercises for the six months that he had been training with the Lord-Commander. Fighting was all he had done, along with some techniques that he had been told to practice. These so called techniques was only really basic strikes and parries that he had been told to repeat a thousand times a day.

A thousand! Robin's eye twitched a little as he remembered the days where he almost thought he was going to die. Barristan had scoffed out loud when he was approached by certain Knights about Robin's physical training. He'd said that until Robin knew how to hold a sword properly, it was all the boy was going to do. Instincts were more important than skills, speed or power. Robin was really hoping that his research and meditations would make progress soon because he really needed a healing charm.

It was funny actually, that the old Knight was suddenly enthusiastic in teaching as Robin was in learning. Although the two of them agreed to never let the Queen find out that her son was getting beaten into a pulp everyday. Especially now that she was pregnant, the woman was a terror upon the citizens of the Red Keep. Her tantrums were a sight to behold and the swollen stomach actually made her that much more intimidating.

He couldn't wait to meet his little brother, he never had any family back when he was Harry.

Robert had popped in every once in a while to see how well his son was doing. He looked like he disagreed with the training methods but miraculously kept his mouth shut and allowed it to continue.

"Hi Jen" Robin slurred as he spotted a bright patch of red hair come into his chambers.

Jenny shook her head, not understanding why he would torture himself like this everyday. The girl and the Prince had grown close during their time together. Robin would even sometimes invite her to his chambers at night where they would speak all night long. Robin would regale her with tales of flying men on brooms, Horse-less carriages that operated on controlled explosions, tall buildings that touched the skies.

She wondered where he'd gotten all those from, the library perhaps? It was well known that the Prince always had his nose deep inside a book when he was not training, eating or sleeping.

It had even become a common saying around the Red Keep; _'If he's not holding a sword, he's holding a book, if it's not both than it's probably a spoon.'_

Jenny giggled as Robin whined and pouted. "Come one now, let's take the shoes of you lazy bum! I've made sure the floor was sparkling and now you've dirtied it." she slapped his leg when refused to move. Jenny sighed as Robin started rolling on the bed, his hands over his head as he kept saying 'No no no no'

"I'll sneak in some wine tomorrow at breakfast if you take a bath now." She giggled as Robin jumped off his bed, throwing her a thumbs up before stripping off all his clothes, not caring that she was right there. Jenny merely shook her head, used to his antics already.

Luckily she had already drawn a bath beforehand, and groaned a bit as she heard a loud splashing noise. It looked like she was going to have to clean up all over again. She didn't mind though, it was her job and she would be happy to help her Prince and Friend, she knew he was dead tired. She had once peeked on one of his training sessions against his wishes and knew immediately why he looked like he was going to die every time he came back to the chambers.

"Robin!" she whined, "You always do this!" she complained as she came over to the bath, where Robin was struggling to wash the small of his back.

"Because we're friends! Trust me if you were the princess and I the Manservant, you'd do this too!" he said, pausing in his efforts to point at her in accusation.

"I beg your pardon? I would never do that to someone. It's only - oh come here you" she cut herself off, lifting her skirt up and walking towards the bath. She batted Robin's hands away and started washing his hair for him.

"Honestly how do you expect girls to like you if you have smelly hair?" she scolded as she massaged the scalp.

"I'm under-aged you pervert" he snorted as she tickled his nose. The girl pretended not to hear him and continued, ignoring the strange term he used.

"You'll have to marry someday you know, I reckon it'll be a beautiful girl, probably one from one of the Great Houses." she sighed as she imagined what would it be to be a noble.

"You're starting to drool Jen." Robin grimaced, as the girl started digging his nose unknowingly in her sudden daydreaming.

"Alright that's it! Get out will ya? I'll handle this myself." Robin yelled, gesturing wildly while sneezing uncontrollably due to all the soap in his nose.

* * *

"He looks like a potato." Robin deadpanned, much to the displeasure of his parents.

"You looked like that when you were a baby son." Robert said, raising an eyebrow. He was a tad bit disappointed when their new son, Joffrey decided to look like his _other_ uncle, Jaime instead of following in his elder brother's footsteps.

No matter, it was still his son and he would treat the boy as such. Joffrey was wailing and crying in his mother's arms non-stop. The novelty of having a younger brother was starting to wear off real quick as Robin was treated to an Ear Exercise.

"He looks more like you mother." Robin said as he stepped closer and took Joffrey from his mother's arms without warning. Cersei and Robert panicked for a moment until Joffrey suddenly quite fussing around.

The new Prince stopped crying instantly as his brother hugged him close. The baby's eyes slowly opened to reveal the same green eyes that their mother had.

"Huh, you're very small aren't you?" He said. The King and Queen kept quiet as they watched the interaction between brothers.

Baby Joffrey's mouth curved upward in a toothless smile as he babbled nonsense, trying to grab at Robin's hair. Laughing, Robin brought the baby close and kissed it on the forehead, making his mother coo and his Father smile.

Yawning, Robin gave the baby back to their mother and bid his parents goodnight. Ser Jaime was waiting outside to escort Robin to his chambers, it was night after all most lights were already out.

"Hello Uncle." Robin said politely to his Uncle. The man merely gave him a small nod before taking the lead, his hand on the handle of his sword the whole while. Robin frowned a little as he stared the fluttering cape behind his Uncle's back. The man was a confusing entity.

He was Robin's uncle, but at the same time a stranger as well. He barely knew the man, other than the fact that he was his mother's twin brother, the fact that he was called Kingslayer because he killed the Mad-King and that he was one of the best swordsman there was.

Robin knew that his uncle disliked him for some reason, and it irked him. Robin was puzzled to see the man's reaction to him when he thought the Prince wasn't looking. Even then it wasn't that obvious but Robin spotted it. The slight glares, the tiny sneers and the way he clenched his fists when Robin was accompanied by the Queen.

He was holding the urge to dive into the man's mind but always decided against it. He wasn't about to open that can of worms yet. Maybe one day but not now, he hand't had the patience to deal with his uncle.

"Good night Nephew, don't let the... monsters under scare you now.." his voice dropped a few octaves as he stared disturbingly into Robin's eyes. The man didn't bother to wait for reply and simply walked off, having done his duty.

"Reminded me of Rabastan Lestrange there for a moment...crazy bastard." Robin shivered as he remembered his 17-Year-Old Self facing down the mad wizard.

* * *

Cersei felt a mix of shame, anger and happiness as she held Joffrey in her arms. The baby sucked at her teat greedily, getting a bit too rough, causing her to grimace every now and then. Countless people had approached her, and had requested her to use a Wet-Nurse to feed the new prince. Cersei disagreed vehemently, she had let her first born be nursed by other women, now she wanted her second all to herself.

Joffrey... was without a doubt Jaime's son. The son of her own twin brother. Joffrey was a bastard, who's true name should have been Waters instead of Baratheon, not a Prince like his older brother.

But he was still her son. The fault did not lie with him but Cersei herself. She had promised herself that she would send her relationship with Jaime. All attempts at bedding her, or even simple displays of affection was heavily rebuffed. The game of cat and mouse between the twins lasted for three moons, then Jaime came to her one night, obviously drunk and told her he needed her. That he was lonely and heartbroken.

Cersei couldn't find it in her to reject him, she gave herself to him that night, the siblings we once again lost in the throes of passion, just as they did before back home at Casterly rock as teenagers.

The result of that was now sleeping peacefully in her arms.

'Nobody needs to know... no one will know.. you'll be my Golden Lion.. Prince Joffrey Baratheon...' she thought to herself. Thinking of her other son, Robin whom looked so much like his father made Cersei break out in sobs.

She had promised, she'd promised Robert that Robin would have a perfect family. Robert hadn't touched another woman since the night of their son's birth, he never stopped drinking but at least the man swung his hammer every now and then for practice.

The King had even admitted that he had grown to care for her, he even stated the possibility of falling in love again. Not once did he mention the Wolf from the North, his previous love. Not even once. Cersei had betrayed him, him and Robin. She had broken her promise.

"It's okay... no one will know...no one will know.." she whispered to herself, hugging her son close. Even as she said it, her own words sounded hollow to her... she could only hope that Robert would not find out because if he did...

Well, the Lions would be joining the Dragons in extinction.

* * *

Robin sat in his carriage with the Queen, her handmaidens and the sleeping Joffrey. The Toddler was going to celebrate his third nameday at Casterly Rock, the seat of the Lannister and it's current Lord and Head of House, Tywin Lannister.

King Robert had politely refused to come, saying that he had 'things' to do. Cersei accepted the blatant lie, not wanting to get into an argument.

Now at eight namedays old. Robin's growth over the past three years was astounding. He was now as tall as his mother's shoulder, the baby fat on his face had burned off a little giving him the classic Lannister look, he had inherited his mother's cheekbones and her more feminine facial features. Back in his previous life, calling Robin a 'pretty boy' would be a fairly accurate description.

The Queen's party was accompanied by half of the Kingsguard, led by the Lord-Commander himself and some hundred men, including servants, maids and cooks. Everyone was surprised when the Queen announced that she was with child. There was a small feast thrown in celebration of the upcoming babe.

Speaking of Robin, the boy was currently doing all he could not to jump out and _run_ to Casterly Rock himself. The speed at which they were going was quite frankly, fucking ridiculous.

Harry Potter would have reached the Westerlands in five minutes, unfortunately, he wasn't Harry Potter anymore. He was the Prince of Westeros and he had to sit down in the damned wheelhouse because his mother said so. They had just stopped to rest for the day due to the bad weather. Tents were being prepared outside and they were currently waiting for the Royal one to be set up.

"I'm going to...uh go out. I will return momentarily." Robin said, putting one of his massive books down on the seat before standing up.

"Where to?" she asked, the girls around her stopped talking at once to allow the royalty to speak.

"Meet a friend?" Robin said, making a face,

"Which friend?" Cersei prodded, wanting to know more.

'Come to think of it. I don't really have a friend do I? Well except for Jenny of course.' he thought.

And he was right, Robin, even if he was loved by the people for his generosity and kind-heartedness, did not posses any single friend other than Jenny. Not the Knights, no the Pages, the Squires or even the Sons of Nobles.

They were quite terrified of him really. Actually they were scared shitless of him. Over the years Robin had significantly improved with the sword and started branching out towards axes, bows, sticks, maces, spears and even war-hammers. The amount of people that were willing to face him were steadily facing a decline.

Mostly because Robin would sometimes lose himself into the fight, and would start smiling. Coupled with the usually bloody equipment,was extremely disturbing.

Nevertheless every Squire or small-folk had a healthy amount of respect and fear of him, which made it hard for him to befriend anyone.

"You're not going to meet that serving maid again are you?" Cersei sneered a bit, her voice dripping with disapproval as she rubbed her swollen belly.

"Mother please, she's my best friend, and only my friend." Robin sighed. They had been having this argument over Robin's apparent favor over a random maid, sometimes even preferring her over the sons of lords and knights. The arguments had been getting intense, with their object of argument none the wiser.

"What? She's the youngest person here! What other friends would I make on this oh so lovely journey?" he snarked. If he hadn't had his books Robin would have probably gone crazy by now. He almost stole Joffrey yesterday to play with him outside. The toddler was cute, and laughed at every joke he made.

Cersei was too tired to reprimand Robin for his behavior and merely waved him off, making him promise he would be back in time for dinner.

Robin stretched himself to get the blood flowing again. Hi arse felt numb sitting for hours and listening to his mother gossip with her handmaidens. Walking around, Robin quietly replied to calls and greetings from the soldiers and helpers.

"Ansen! Come here ya scruffy bastard!" Robin yelled, gaining a young squire's attention. The boy came running to his Prince at the order, stopping before him and bowing his head. Ansen as a full head taller than Robin was, he had bright blonde hair and blue eyes. Ansen was Robin's most favorite sparring partner, because he was the only one who didn't cry.

"Yes my Prince?" he asked, ready to fulfill his duty.

"You've seen Jenny anywhere around?" Robin questioned. Jason pointed to his right, and was awarded a pat on the back as Robin thanked him and made his way in that general direction.

"Jenny! Jenny!?" Robin yelled, calling for his lovely maid.

"Aren't you supposed to be with your mother young man?"

Robin spun on his feet, cracking a grin as he spotted his only friend in the world. The eight-year-old grabbed the maid, lifting her up and spinning her around in circles, ignoring her cries to put her down.

"You're light as a feather! You should eat more you know. Why don't we have a nice dinner in my tent tonight?" Robin asked, putting the maid down.

Jenny wobbled a bit and shook her head in an effort to make the dizziness disappear. Blowing a lock of hair from her eye, the girl gave her Prince a dirty look, eliciting a sheepish smile from him.

"I am just at the right weight I'll have you know!" she huffed, cheeks puffing as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"And besides, your mother will have a fit if you decide to skip dinner with her for some commoner girl." she scolded. The girl had changed quite a bit in three years, now ten and eight, Jenny was quite known around the Red-Keep for her constant presence around the Prince of Westeros.

Of course rumors had started flying about when a girl had caught them having a nice picnic in the gardens. Robin was resting, laying his head on Jenny's lap as he told stories about his previous world.

Some said that the girl was a witch that asserted herself in the Prince's life in hopes of being a future Queen. Some said that the young Robin was having a illicit affair with his maid and caretaker. Robin swore to himself that if he ever found the source of these rumors he would shove that person's head up a horse's arse.

His mother had hounded him for months when she heard the gossip, insisting that it was too much of a hassle to keep the girl around. Robin of course refused, and made his mother swore that Jenny wouldn't be having any 'accidents' anytime soon. Poor Jenny had to endure the Queen's ire ever since.

"Let's get some drinks in and go prank old man Andrew! The damn old cook deserves it for ratting me out last time..." Robin giggled to himself.

"Give him a break will you! What if gets sick or something! Mister Andrew had a heart attack a few years ago I'll have you know!" she hissed, face turning as red as her hair. She really hoped he would grow out of his pranks.

Robin decided to ignore that sentence completely, acting as if she hadn't spoken at all. He hissed in pain when the girl pinched his ears and pulled.

"Alright, alright! Sheesh you don't have to be so violent!" he snarked, rubbing his poor red ears.

"Good. Now why were you searching for me? It wasn't just for the prank was it?" she asked.

"Just that we'll be reaching Casterly Rock soon, and lunch." he said, laughing sheepishly as his stomach growled.

"Oh fine you big baby, come one then, I have some treacle tarts for you, You know I still don't know why or how you came up with such a recipe.."

* * *

 _ **To Be Continued**_

A/N: Chapter has been completely Rewritten.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Rebellion

**Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter do not belong to me.**

 **Timeline Changes**

 _ **Robert's Rebellion started in 280 A.C , ending in 281 A.C**_

 _ **Ages will be changed accordingly.**_

 _ **Re-written 25/02/2018**_

* * *

-3-

Casterly Rock was a supernatural thing of beauty, and a ridiculously impenetrable natural fort. It was as if the Gods themselves sculpted the marvelous structure with their divine hands. The way it was built into the mountain itself was astounding. If this was where his mother lived her life before King's Landing, then she must have had a hard time leaving it. Robin knew he himself would have to be dragged on his arse if he were ever forced to vacate this place if it was home.

As the party neared their destination, Robin had swiftly vacated his mother's wheelhouse, opting to ride a horse at the head of the party with members of the Kingsguard flanking him. The King had sent his brother-in-law Ser Jaime, The Lord-Commander Barristan the Bold, Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Boros Blount to protect his Queen and two sons. He would have sent the whole squad if not for Jon Arryn's intervention.

Robin liked the Hand of the King. The old man was very nice to him and would sometimes approach the Prince to ask how his training and studies was progressing. Lord Arryn was also the one who encouraged Robin's mingling with the Small-Folk, much to his mother's displeasure. The Hand had told him weather it be from the goodness of his heart, or careful manipulation, mixing in with the crowd was never a bad thing. The old Lord would also sometimes gift him with presents that he knew the Prince would love. The magnificent falcon he received was a testament to that.

Currently, the Queen's party had just passed through the main gate and were entering the courtyard, where there was quite the crowd waiting for her Royal Grace's arrival. Robin's horse trotted to the front, where a line of blonde haired men, women and children were waiting dutifully. All of them had some resemblance to the Queen. But that wasn't how Robin knew that this was the other side of his family.

It was _them_. The Stoned-Faced Lord standing at the head of the Lannisters and the curly haired dwarf right at the back; Robin had to squint to see whom he assumed was his Uncle Tyrion, the infamous Imp of Casterly Rock.

Leaping of his horse, Robin landed perfectly on his feet. As the Boy dusted of his robes, the entire courtyard knelt before their Prince, all except for one. The Head of House Lannister merely bowed his head to his eldest Grandson.

Robin's eyes narrowed slightly, somehow he had the feeling that his Grandfather would prove to be quite the troublesome man.

"Please, Rise my people" came the voice of the Queen, jerking Robin from his personal thoughts.

It was said that Cersei's beauty shined the greatest when the mid-day sun was shining upon her in the Westerlands. Robin had no doubts about that, his mother was perfect in every sense of the word. Even if his chubby baby-brother was in her arms sleeping peacefully, the Queen managed to steal everyone's breaths away.

"Daughter, I see you are with child...again. I offer you my congratulations." Tywin acknowledge, nodding at his Queen.

"Thank you Father... it is a pleasure to finally meet you again. This is Joffrey, my son." she said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. The Queen had mixed feelings about her father. The man was as cold-hearted as they came, barely paying any attention to her in lieu of grooming her Brother to be the perfect heir to his legacy. Cersei was always hungry for his approval when she was a girl.

Now, she wasn't sure if she cared what the man thought anymore.

"A Lannister through and through." the man said, barely glancing at the second son, his eyes searching for something else.

"Unlike me of course - Greetings Lord Tywin, Finally I get to meet my esteemed Grandfather." Robin cut in, suddenly making an appearance. Robin's height barely reached the Old Lion's breast, which was quite the achievement considering his age.

"One could mistake you for Renly Baratheon at that age." Tywin said, not bothering to return the greetings, which Robin had to admit irked him quite a bit, he still held that tiny little bit of hope that his Grandfather wasn't a complete Malfoy. Which meant Jackass in his dictionary.

"This -" he said, ignoring his Grandfather completely and walked towards the collective blondes "- must be the other side of my family, the famous Lannisters!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking at the end. Damn, that totally ruined his awesome introduction. Robin really hated having to go through puberty _twice._

 _"_ You must be my Lovely Aunt Genna, the stories of your famed beauty do you no justice!" Robin said, some of his 'Harry Potter' breaking through as he ignored Genna Lannister' outstretched hand and kissed her on the cheek, hugging her as he did. Smirking at Genna's 'Oh my!', Robin clasped his Great-Uncle Kevan's arm like an adult, he patted the man on the shoulder as well, laughing when the man jerked to the side and winced a little.

"Apologies Nuncle, it seems I've inherited my Father's strength, and more!" he roared in laughter, drawing all attention to him.

"Now son, you can greet you cousins later, we should get settled in." Cersei said, giving her son 'the look'. She was not impressed at her son's little show of rebelliousness.

"We will have a feast ready in a few hours, you may roam around the castle or rest, the servants will show you to your rooms." The Lord said as he dispersed the crowd. Robin ignored him again, and quickly made his way to a retreating member of the family, which unknown to him, made his mother's usually beautiful visage contort into an ugly frown.

His short, stumbling steps reminded Robin of Dobby the House Elf for some reason.

Tyrion Lannister, the Imp of Casterly Rock was absolutely furious. His father had put him in charge of clean-up duties after the upcoming feast and had ordered him to stay away from the Princes, citing the fact that he was a pathetic whore-mongering drunk that would only give the future rulers a bad impression of their family.

It was the most fucking ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Of course he wasn't going to act like that in front of children! Tyrion's hatred of his father grew just a tiny bit as he made his way towards the courtyard, where every member of the family had to gather.

Lord Tywin had commanded that he stood at the back with the lesser Lannisters of Lannisport. Tyrion sneered to himself, he could give a rat's ass about his sister's children, not to mention the Queen-Bitch herself.

Standing in the warm midday sun, Tyrion had to rethink that satement as he spotted the Crown Prince jumping of the horse and walking as if he owned the place. He definitely disagreed with his previous statement when his nephew ignored his Father completely to greet Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna. Tyrion was grinning the whole time, seeing the rebelliousness for what it was. Clearly the Prince was ticked off and he showed it the only way he knew how.

He liked the boy, Tyrion was actually happy that the Future King inherited none of his mother's traits, well except for the cheekbones. It was Cersei's only redeeming quality.

Tyrion quickly walked off after his father dismissed the crowd, and was making his way towards his chambers for a glass of wine and a good book when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Greetings Nuncle Tyrion! I never got to greet you just then! Terribly sorry about that!" the boy grinned. Now that he was closer, Tyrion could see that the boy inherited more than just his mother's cheekbones.

"Ah... if it isn't the Crown Prince-" Tyrion greeted. "-what brings a young man of your stature here to greet this lowly _dwarf?_ " he drawled, bowing so low his nose almost touched the floor.

Chuckling lightly, Robin bowed back, showing off his flexibility as he bowed as low as his uncle did, surprising the man.

"Let's cut the bullshite shall we? Height doesn't mean two shits to me." he said, laughing loudly at the man's reaction.

"What say we talk a walk Nuncle? You look like you could be a great conversationalist! We can tour and you can show me the sights to be seen..." he babbled, much to Tyrion's amusement.

Not once did the boy show displeasure at his apparent disfigurement, the boy treated him like any normal man would. Internally, Tyrion was astonished that the Prince of Westeros was so polite, down-to-earth and even had a great sense of humor.

He had a feeling this one would prove to be quite entertaining.

* * *

Yawning loudly, Robin stumbled his way towards the Lord Tywin's personal study, trying to ease his headache. The Man had called for him, something about a meeting of some sort. Robin gave the page a dirty look for disturbing him so early in the morning, sending the poor scamp running.

Knocking lightly, Robin opened the door and walked in. He was a bit surprised that the room was barely decorated, instead filled with tremendous amount of books, parchments and scrolls.

The Man himself was sitting quietly, writing, not acknowledging his Grandson's entrance.

Robin took this opportunity to walk around, oberserving the Old Lion's room, not at all bothered by his Granfather's attitude. The Dursley's treatment of him as Harry Potter pretty much gave him immunity towards cunts.

'And you really are one big cunt aren't you gramps? Blaming Uncle for grandmother's death in _childbirth_ and treating him like shite' Robin held a frown, trying to keep his face blank as he finally made eye-contact with his grandfather.

He was glad that the Lion Lord, his brother and most of the Houseguard would be touring the Westerlands soon, something about improving relations and what not. Leaving the Castellan Damion Lannister in charge. Well technically Robin, as the Crown Prince was in charge but he knew next to nothing about running a castle.

Apparently Tywin had been planning the trip for almost a year now, and the Queen's sudden need to see her girl-hood home would not impede those plans it seemed.

Looking at those cold, hard eyes, akin to chips of ice, Robin suddenly felt the urge again to dive into the man's mind. He wanted to know how or what a man like this' thinking process was like.

"I see you have made yourself at home." he stated. Robin noted that his voice was a soothing baritone, and that the man like spoke in rhythms. It was oddly pleasant to listen to.

"Guess so" Robin asked, putting up a poker face, not breaking eye contact.

"Yes, I would think so after that... display last night?" Tywin said, a flash of annoyance appearing briefly on his face before it went back to it's normal blankness.

That 'display' that Tywin was speaking about was when Robin, being the stubborn boy he was, went against his mother's wishes and drank half a pitcher of wine. The people of Casterly Rock was surprised to see the Prince act like a giggly rambunctious moron that went causing mayhem around the whole feasting hall. Robin was lucky Jenny covered for him when Cersei became suspicious.

Grimacing slightly, Robin put that thought away and continued on.

"I will be training with my cousins today, _all_ of my cousins, I haven't had a decent exercise in quite some time. God knows those softies need a good beating" the Prince declared cracking the joints in his fingers.

"Sit down.." Tywin ordered, although he was mildly impressed at how the boy was trying to control the flow of the conversation, unfortunately Tywin was not in the mood for games.

He waited for the black-haired prince to sit before opening his mouth.

"You will be King one day...and your brother Joffrey your hand I'm assuming." he said, picking up a chess board at the end of the table and setting the pieces slowly and deliberately.

"If he wants to." Robin replied, reaching out to help the old man set the board.

"Tell me, what would you do then?" The Lannister Lord prodded, making the first move, moving his pawn a few tiles, making the first move in the game.

"Asking that question to a eight-year-old seems redundant Grandfather, don't you think?" Robin replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Answer the question boy, What will you do with all that power in your fingertips?" Tywin asked, pausing a moment to stare into the Prince's eyes.

"One would think to speak more carefully to royalty, even if it's family in question." Robin smirked, not afraid to lord his royalty over his grandfather, he knew the man wouldn't be intimidated in the slightest bit, but it was amusing to his eye twitch just a tiny bit.

"So unlike your father aren't you? He always hated politics and matters of the court, I sense that you are quite different." his voice, a deep baritone dropped slightly.

"It is not a matter of like or dislike Grandfather, it is merely my duty; though the fact that it is not challenging in the slightest bores me a little I must say." Robin pouted, moving a piece forward on the board.

"Arrogance does not suit you boy... I see the time you have spent with Tyrion has influenced you much." he stated with utmost certainty, something that which made Robin want to snarl.

'It is not arrogance if I can read you and everyone's mind like a fucking book old man' Robin shouted mentally.

"And how would you know this? Perceived omniscience does not suit you either Gramps." Robin shot back, grinning viciously as he took a bishop from Tywin's side of the board.

"Quite the mouth on you I see, now I can see that you've inherited more than just Baratheon looks." Tywin snorted, resting his head on his hand. "You have yet to answer my question, what would you do if had the power of the King?"

"That would be very simple. I will burn down the Seven Kingdoms." Robin's voice dropped a few tones, his eyes flickering green for a moment. Tywin actually _froze_ in his seat for a second before getting a hold of himself, resuming the game.

"And I will rebuild it in my image." Robin continued, not allowing his grandfather to cut in.

"Will you now? And that Image you would be?" Tywin said out loud.

"The Image of Paradise I would think. Improve the small-folk's lives for one, a Kingdom's greatest resources is its people." he said, rubbing his chin and thinking out his next move.

"Education will be made extremely affordable and _compulsory_. Academies specializing in various subjects such as maths and medicine will be raised, with Maesters and Teachers to work them. Having a whole country of Illiterates is asinine."

"The Lords of the Great Houses enjoy a great degree of autonomy, that will change as well. The _King_ should be in charge of _everything_. The Vassals are there to watch over his land. The Seven Kingdoms belong to my Father and my father alone." Robin grinned savagely as he took one of Tywin's Knights.

"Tis a great burden to bear, but one is King for a reason."

Tywin wanted to say many things to his Grandson, but stayed his mouth when it looked like Robin had much more to say.

"Men from all over the Kingdoms will be drafted into a single royal army, serving the Royal Family alone."

Now that caught his attention. Tywin was suddenly very much interested the idea of this 'so-called army'.

"Great plans you have for Westeros boy; Great Plans almost always fail to work." Tywin responded, not taking his eyes of the board.

"Mine will." Robin insisted, slamming his Rook down with more force than necessary.

"And Why is that? What makes you think you can bring down thousand of years of history? What makes you think that you will be able build and create this... 'ideal' world of yours without any form of retaliation?"

"Thousands of years of stagnation you mean?" Robin snarled, getting angry.

"Look at this Country! Eight Thousand years and what progress have we made? None! It's pathetic and disgusting! How are we supposed to!? With trash like the mad King sitting his Pale arse on the throne, burning anything he wanted! Tell me Grandfather, you boast of being the Head of the Richest house in Westeros. People even say you shite gold! But!-"

Here Robin paused, choosing his words carefully.

"Having money does not change the fact that you will be but a single Blip in the history of mankind. My father could give you the Iron Throne right now-" he stated, finger tapping the hand-made wood carved desk every now and then.

"-He could pass over to you right now and any or all attempts you make to build and sustain your 'Legacy' would barely leave a mark on history." he declared with the utmost confidence.

"Why? Because you're like them Grandfather. The way you think, the way you perceive Victory, what you see as power, it's all wrong, so stupidly wrong. Even if you are Emperor of the World, everything remains the same. The people still suffer, technology stagnates, cities remain the same, not evolving or advancing."

"One day, the empire will fall and the cycle continues. Repeating it self over and over, just as it has for over thousands of years. ."

"You see Grandfather, _I_ will change Westeros - No, I will change the world with my own two hands. I will _push_ us forwards, and I will drag those who refuse kicking and screaming. I will unite the World under one banner, and usher a world of peace...forever." he added, moving another piece on the board as he leaned forward, staring deep into those hard green eyes.

"But, as we said...it's all just...plans of course." Robin finished, not waiting for his Grandfather's reply as he stood up and pointed at his grandfather.

"Plans that you will do well to forget! _**Legilimens**_ _!"_

* * *

 _King's Landing_

Varys the Spider they called him, the Master of Whisperers was the position which he held in the Small Council. Varys was an enigma, a most mysterious man. People say his secrets have secrets, and even those have secrets as well.

Deeply ingrained into the Spy Network across Westeros and even Essos, unknown to most, the man was one of the most powerful individual currently in the Seven Kingdoms, and that power came from information alone. Lord Varys had access to the deepest secrets, the most dangerous knowledge there is to know.

No one really knew where his true allegiance lay, even the King; but Robert could not afford to lose Varys to anyone else. He rather preferred for the 'devil' to work under him than against him. Jon Arryn had supported this, and approved Robert's decision to keep the man as Master of Whisperers.

The Spymaster was currently enjoying a nice walk in the gardens of the Red Keep. Wearing his usual bright colored silk-robes, the man took quick, short steps to his destination. Reaching a secluded part of the garden, where tall trees lay, Varys made his way to the table, where a young woman had prepared wine and snacks for him.

Thanking the little bird, the Spymaster proceeded to sit, all by himself.

Unkown to everyone, The Bald Spy was having quite the dilemma.

Robert II Baratheon, the Prince was the cause of it.

The boy was a naturally Kind-Hearted and loving, but could be downright ruthless when the situation called for it. Although he always made it a point to never take it too far. Quite an admirable trait, but would only drag him down in the end.

He was also quite the reader; Varys' little birds had told him of how the Prince was always visiting the library, having two or three people carrying out massive books to his room, where he most probably devoured them.

Robin, as many people had taken to calling him, was also a stubborn brat. Varys recalled an incident about horse-riding, the Prince had gone against his mother's wishes and got his leg broken in the process. The boy was lucky that was all that he got, usually people got more than a broken leg when a horse fell atop them.

Varys had also seen the brutal training that the Prince put himself through and was thoroughly impressed by the boy's grit and determination. The boy was rough around the edges but if he was properly molded... he could be what the realm needed.

And therein lay the problem. Varys and his 'associates' already had another candidate in mind for the Iron throne.

Marriage, perhaps?

Varys chuckled to himself, that was ridiculous, Robert Baratheon would rather cut his own head off than let his son marry a Targaryen.

Perhaps..

* * *

Ships..

Ships was all the eye could see if one looked out towards Lannisport. It was in the night they came, the creatures - nay monsters of the sea would better describe them.

Their nefarious plans for the city before them was only the most evil.

They were ready to die, ready to do whatever it took to regain what was rightfully theirs. A fire had been lit inside their hearts and it would nothing short of complete annihilation to resist them.

With the Drowned God by their side, these men whom had lived by the sea their whole lives would ensure their victory against the miserable 'Green-Landers'. Those would rather pay with petty gold rather than the Iron Price. Those soft fools who would rather sit down and talk rather than take what was theirs.

Empty treasure chests were littered across the ships, in preparation for their bountiful rewards in slaughtering the Yellow-Haired Shits.

Now was the perfect time, now the right time, it was the only time. The Lion Lord was gone, with most of his dogs. The city of Lannisport was undefended, and Casterly Rock...

Euron Greyjoy grinned with all the malice in the world reflected from those bottomless pits he called eyes.

The man would enjoy this, yes he would.

Rows upon Rows of Men in various leather and steel armor stood at the ready. The only thing that signified their union was a Golden Kraken on a black field.

They had arrived, and they had come to burn.

So It begins, The Greyjoy Rebellion.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Exposition scene with Tywin was terrible and incredibly lazy I Know, I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me.**_

 _ **Right now, he can't do jack shit with his magic except the mind arts,why? Plot reasons. I'm just a lazy bastard aren't I?**_

 _To be Continued_


	4. Chapter 4 - Siege of Casterly Rock

**Reincarnation**

 **Finally saved up enough to buy a new laptop. Skipping most of the Greyjoy rebellion because I don't have the patience nor the skill to write it. Kinda rusty since I last wrote, I mean I wasn't great then but I'm not any better now.**

 **Oh yeah, flames, criticisms, compliments, say whatever you wanna say. I'm not going to go "If you don't like? Don't read!" like most cunts here on ff. You can do or say whatever the fuck you like.**

 **No BETA, I've proof read as best I can but there will be Grammar Mistakes.**

 **20/07/2017 9.00 PM - Chapter Updated; word count increased, most grammar mistakes fixed.**

 **25/02/2017 9.00 PM - Re-Written yet again.**

* * *

-4-

"Robin wake up, now now!" a familiar voice urged him. With reflexes born of his previous life's experience in warefare, Robin forced his eyes to open, sitting straight up to see whom had awoken him in what was probably three in the morn.

"Ser Barristan, what's going on?" his tired voice came, barely a whisper compared to the screams throughout the castle.

'Wait a minute... screams?'

"Come here, quickly!" Barristan urged, his usual confident and relaxed visage filled with urgency and panic. Robin quickly took the man's hand and found himself off the bed, and led to the window.

What he saw was... extremely disturbing. Robin's chambers faced westwards of the main gate of Casterly Rock. Being the Prince, he had been given one of the highest and biggest rooms in the right wing of the Castle. This way he got a perfect, almost bird's eye view of the surrounding areas, including great forests, villages, the ocean, and Lannisport.

The very same Lannisport that was being ravaged by a great and terrible blaze. Turning to Ser Barristan, Robin's mouth opened to ask the obvious, but found no words that could be spoken. The Lord-Commander took a knee, and slowly put both his hands on the Baratheon's shoulders.

"A raven came from the Lannisport Lannisters, it seems that Balon Greyjoy and the Iron Islands have risen up in Rebellion against your father." he explained calmly, the previous panic now wiped from his aged face.

"Oh fucking hell..." Robin almost shouted, his hands clenched so hard his little knuckles turned white.

"I'm afraid no help will be given to Lannisport. Nor any will come to us." he continued, nodding once the Prince's eyes widened in realization.

"They're coming here?" He sputtered. Ser Barristan removed his hands and stood up.

"It seems the burning of the Lannisport fleet was both an objective, and a distraction." Barristan said. The man jerked his head towards the chamber doors, prompting Robin to move.

"You're saying that Casterly Rock's the true prize? But that doesn't make sense, why would they siege an impregnable Castle? I doubt they even have enough men!" he scowled, not quite understanding the mind of Balon Greyjoy.

"No Castle is impregnable child." Ser Barristan scolded gently, nodding as Robin mumbled out apologies.

Exiting the chambers, the duo began making their way towards the Great Hall, where the Throne of the previous Monarchs of the Rock sat. They could hear the panicked screams of the women and children alike, which wasn't helpful to anyone.

"While the Lannister fleet's destruction may seem like a great boon for the Ironborn's cause, if they managed to get their hands on the Royal Family..." the man trailed off, not willing to finish the sentence.

"Where's mother and Joff?" Robin asked, feeling sick to the stomach.

"The Queen and Prince Joffrey are already waiting for you. You will stay in the great hall then, where you will sit on the Golden Throne and begin conducting the emergency War council." Ser Barristan explained.

"You must be Joking, even if I do know a thing or two about warfare from lessons, I'm just a child." Robin raised his voice, his hands waving wildly.

Well that was complete and utter bullshit. God knows how many sieges against Hogwarts he had fought off. If anything Castle defense was his speciality, but alas, he had to put on a show for the old knight.

Ser Barristan then did something completely out of character, the man laughed. Not the small chuckes he would let out but a big bellied laugh that surprised Robin entirely.

"Oh no my boy, only a formality, seeing as you are the Crown Prince. You won't have to do anything but nod and agree once we've all agreed to a suitable plan to repel the Ironborn. The Krakens should arrive once the hour ends, quickly now, we must start." Barristan paused here, looking at the Prince with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't worry now, everything will be just fine." he said, trying to comfort the distressed child.

'Oh fuck me.' Robin cursed mentally.

He wasn't so glad now that Tywin Lannister was gone.

The war meeting wasn't really a war meeting. It was more of a competition between the Nobles and Soldiers to see who could burst their Crown Prince's eardrums first. Robin took a deep breath as a cup of wine was thrown across the room.

'These fucker's act like I'm not even here!' Robin scowled, somewhat irritated by the show of immense disrespect.

A quarter of an hour had passed and the Ironborn were getting closer, and here they were, the so called Highborn of the Westerlands still screaming their heads off like a bunch of asinine fools.

Robin looked to the side, where the whole Lannister brood stood. There was aunt Genna, who looked like she wanted to speak out, but decided against it. Lancel and his two brothers, Willem and Martyn hung to their Aunt's skirt, scared out of their wits.

Alyn Lannister of Lannisport looked like she wanted to cry, her older brother, Arving Lannister tried to comfort her but couldn't make enough effort as his own mind was in a state of distress. Their young baby sister Rosamund was with their mother, the Lady Anna Lannister. Lord Reginald, the head of the house was still in Lannisport it seemed. He was supposed to get back tomorrow to visit before escorting his family back home.

That obviously wasn't going to happen.

There was also Darlessa Lannister with her son Tyrek, Robin felt a sort of sorrow for the young boy, he heard Tygett Lannister died of smallpox just a few months after the boy was born.

Finally, the only Lannister there other than Robin and his brother who didn't truly have the name, just the blood. Robin had ordered Jenny to care for Joy Hill as if she were her own sister.

Something about the girl reminded him of Harry Potter. The bastard girl deserved better.

As for his uncle... Robin didn't know where Tyrion was, but he was going to kick the Dwarf in the head if skipped this for drinking.

"We must flee! Abandon the Castle lest we all lose our heads! The Small-folk are already doomed!" Damion Lannister shouted.

The Queen, whom stood beside Robin with Joff in hand, looked like she agreed. Robin rolled his eyes, he could never get used to her attitude concerning small-folk.

"We must ride out to Lannisport's aid my lords! We cannot leave them undefended!" another one, Lord Lydden? or was it Bracken? Shouted. Robin shook his head as the previous discussion devolved into more shouting. The hall parted in two as the fighting took sides. Robin decided enough was enough when a reckless highborn lad decided to draw his sword.

'Are these people serious? The Ironborn are literally outside!'

" _SHUT THE FUCK UP!"_ Robin suddenly roared, his young voice shook the room, crashing against the ears of every man in the room.

And just like that, everyone was silent. All of them staring wide eyed at the Little Figure in the throne. The silence stretched for a little while longer before the Crown Prince spoke up.

"If you insipid old cunts can't decide on what to do, then allow me to take charge." Robin said, standing up slowly, even dressed in a plain tunic, breeches, the boy managed to look intimidating, which was quite the accomplishment, considering his height, and his lack of shoe-wear.

"But my Prince!-" a old man started, Robin didn't know his name, he didn't care.

"Speak without permission again and you'll find yourself over the walls, understand!?" he snarled, making the man flinch in horror.

"Listen and listen well, I will not repeat myself; you _will_ obey!" he shouted, face morphing into a terrible glare that sent chills up the men's spines.

"Ser Barristan Selmy will lead whatever men we can arm onto the battlements. He will be acting commander of troops on the walls. Go to him for orders." He nodded to the Kingsguard, noting the man's disapproval but subsequent obedience. He knew he was putting the man on the spot, but honestly; even a fuck-boy would know how to defend a fucking wall.

And he wasn't about to waste the single best knight in his arsenal with bodyguard duties.

"Ser Benedict Broom will command the men below, he will be in charge down there."

"Lord Damion, you and your son will be in charge of arming the small-folk that manages goes through those gates. Every boy older than thirteen summers will be given a sword. I want the women armed with bows, just in case, those too young and too old will stay inside." he nodded again when he heard a 'Yes, your grace!'

Robin wanted to go on but a raised hand forced him to stop. "Yes what is it? Lord..?" he prompted.

"Lydden my Prince, are you sure it is wise to arm the women? I mean no offense but..." he stopped, looking disturbed, struggling to continue.

"I understand your reasons my Lord. Yet you forget, this is not a battle for glory, nor is it a fight to conquer, this is a struggle for survival... The Women _will_ fight for their survival." he said in a steely tone that silenced any protests.

"The Gates will close and only close on my command. No archer is to knock an arrow unless the order is given. If a westerlander life is lost to a Lannister arrow then I'll put one in all of you!" he warned, the fires in the room seemed to get bigger as he did, casting a large, ominous shadow of the Crown Prince, his Deep Blue eyes shine violently.

Miraculously, everyone followed his word without question.

"I want all the children here in this hall, and someone go and find fucking Tyrion!" he ordered, annoyance peaking when nobody moved.

"What are you waiting for?" he roared, and suddenly everyone in the room buzzed to life, moving around and getting to their stations.

Groaning loudly, Robin sat back down, rubbing his face tiredly.

"You looked like a King. I see those books you read weren't just for show." his mother said. Robin jumped, for a moment there, he forgot the woman was even there. Turning around, Robin's face morphed into one of confusion as he saw his mother staring at him in awe and dare he say it? Reverence.

"You'll embarrass me." he replied, grinning half-heartedly.

"If only your brother was awake to see the future king in all his glory." Cersei said, smiling as she cooed over her second son.

"That reminds me... Trant! Blount! get over here!" he shouted, standing up when the two came near.

"Protect the Lannisters with your lives, if I see even one of them with a scratch, you better already be dead." he warned, satisfied as the two saluted obeyed without question.

"Come mother, let's get you settled in with the others." he said softly as he took his mother's hand and led her to the rest. The Lannisters stood at attention, forgetting their worries for the moment to properly greet their Queen and Princes.

"Come now, there's no need for any of that, we're family." Robin said, raising his hands to calm them.

"Is everybody doing all right then?" he asked kindly, the complete opposite of his personality not three minutes ago. Hearing a sob, Robin frowned, then smiled a sad one as Alyn Lannister sobbed against her brother's chest.

"Forgive her my Prince, it seems Reginald was in Lannisport when..." their mother trailed off, her eyes welling up with tears.

"There is nothing to forgive my Lady, she is grieving, that I understand. I make no promises but after all this is done I'll do all I can to see Lord Reginald back safe in your arms." he said, completely serious. Anna nodded and went back to comforting her children.

"Everyone must stay here, listen to the Kingsguard and do whatever they tell you. That's all I can spare. We need every man here if we even hope to see daylight." he explained, eyes boring into every single Lannister.

"Don't worry child... this isn't the first time we've seen war.. we can handle ourselves, you shan't be your wasting time here." Genna Lannister said, many of the Lannister agreeing with her vocally.

"You're right aren't you?" Robin smiled, before turning to the only red-head in the group. "A moment please Jenny." he called out, rolling his eyes at his mother when the woman's eyes narrowed in dislike.

Jenny hugged little Joy before going over to Robin. The black-haired boy took the girl's hand into his, rubbing them softly. For a moment, he remembered doing the same thing to Ginny Weasley as Harry Potter right before the Battle of Hogwarts.

"You're going out there aren't you?" she said, it was not a question.

"I must." he answered none the less.

"You're a child." she scowled, and her hands gripped his a little tighter.

"I'm the Prince." he insisted.

"That's stupid." she snapped, not caring about their raised voices.

"It is, but that's the way it is. No one would argue if I should stay here, but Morale would increase exponentially if the Crown Prince was out there, even if he was barely eight name days old." he explained.

"I know, but I-...just... just s-stay safe.." she said, forgoing all propriety and moving quickly to hug him. Robin's eyes widened in surprise that she would do such a thing here, in front of everyone.

"I will.." he said, taking in her scent..he would never forget it, it was exactly the same as the red-head from his previous life. Strawberry with a hint of cinnamon. The maid of the prince certainly enjoyed a privilege few had. Shampoo wasn't a common commodity in these times.

'Ahem' was the sound that came from the Queen as she glared at the two, Joffrey still slept in her arms, quiet as a crypt. Robin gently pushed Jenny away, raising an eyebrow as he had the attention of the whole place, even the courtiers that were streaming in.

"Now to deal with her..." Robin muttered as he went to his mother.

"Come on now son, I'll get the cook to whip up something, you'll need something inside before you rest. " she said, holding out a free hand.

"Robin...?" she asked, confused when Robin did not take her hand.

"I won't be resting mother." he said, staring into her eyes, the green in them were filled with distress. She felt helpless, Robin knew sometimes his mother wished that she had the privilege of having a cock. So she could wield a sword an inherit Casterly Rock.

"What do you mean?" she questioned, moving closer.

"I'm sorry about this mummy, but I have to do this." he said, heart clenching in pain and sorrow as his mother's eyes finally widened in realization.

"Robert! What are you saying!? -"

" _Legillimens"_ he whispered, diving into his mother's head and planting the strongest of suggestions he could, compelling her to obey him. It was still much, much weaker than the imperious curse but it was strong enough.

A tear escaped his mother's eyes as they went blank, and she turned on her feet and walked towards the throne, where she sat quietly.

"Time to fight I guess."

* * *

Robin had refused to wear plate armor, calling it useless and heavy, much to the displeasure of... well everyone really. Instead he wore hard-boiled leather with the Lannister Lion on the front. He had a bow in hand, an an quiver half-full at his side.

A short sword was strapped to his hip and his head was bare to the world. The boy-prince refused to wear a helmet, not willing to sacrifice vision for a measure of safety. He didn't know how long he stood there, firing arrow after arrow down to the Ironborns below.

Ser Barristan almost sent Robin inside when he saw the boy wielding an arrow, preparing to shoot. It wasn't in the plan after all, Robin was only supposed to be there for the sake of _being_ there.

It wasn't everyday men saw royalty, and It was even rare still to see royalty fighting for their people. The age didn't matter, only the fact that he was there, with the men side by side.

Faintly, he could here the sounds of his Sword-Teacher shouting orders. Men died everywhere, some he knew, some he didn't. The Ironborns came upon them wave after wave, the intensity of their assaults threatened to break the line of defense but the men stood defiantly.

Weaving his head to the side, the Prince dodged a stray arrow. Looking down, Robin grimaced as he saw the waves of black over the grounds before Casterly Rock.

"How many are there? A thousand? A thousand-five?" he asked his bodyguard for the time being, Ser Arys Oakheart.

"That would be two-thousand your grace." the man answered, bow and arrow in hand as well, the Kingsguard, unlike his Lord-Commander had decided to discard the white armor. He said that it was too constricting for a battle, so now he wore only chainmail and leather.

The Ironborn kept coming, trying to cross the bridge. Robin didn't even have to aim properly, his arrow was almost guaranteed to hit flesh from up in the walls. Ser Barristan had warned him to go inside if things got too heavy. Robin was sure that he didn't have to, the Ironborn were being repelled quite easily.

Everything was going well, Robin thought, until Lucion Lannister's voice screamed so loud Robin was sure half the Westerlands heard it.

"WILDFIRE! THEY HAVE WILDFIRE! FLEE, FLEE!"

That's when it all when to seven fucking hells.

 _ **BTOOOOOM!**_

The force of the blast was so strong it caused the gate to vaporize in an instant, the men manning the walls above them too. The impact threw everyone who didn't burn to the ground. The World turned green, as if a new green colored moon had taken it's place in the night sky.

Robin was thrown back so hard he flew, hitting the ledge behind him. Unable to regain his balance, due to the jarring noise pounding in his head and the incredible heat, Robin's hand slipped and Ser Arys Oakheart watched in horror as his Prince fell from the wall.

The Stone surrounding the Gates of Casterly rock were nothing but melted stone. The Bridge connecting the Rock to mainland had suffered as well. Before, it could hold twenty men standing abreast; now only five could do so without falling into the green tinted waters below.

It seemed the Ironborn had also paid a price for their entrance.

The Suicide Squad sent to obliterate the defenses had perished too in the Wildfire. The green fire raged everywhere, the waters burned, stone burned, men and steel burned. It was a truly horrible sight.

Robin's body ached terribly. Opening his eyes, the boy-prince could only see green mixed with black, the only two colors his eyes could perceive. Slowly getting up, Robin hissed in pain when he felt his arrow had pierced through his side, although it was just the tip.

Grabbing the wood, he gasped in pain as he forced the damned thing out. Looking down to his side, Robin grimaced at the wound, it wasn't dangerous enough to kill him but it would cause serious harm if left unattended.

Ripping the cloth from his arm, the Prince tied as hard as he could around the wound, wincing every now and then.

It was then he finally realized what had happened.

'How did they get Wildfire of all things?' he thought incredulously.

Robin cursed when he saw he had fall from the walls and into the yard below. That was not a good thing, the men on top must have saw him drop.

"Prince Robin! Retreat" he heard a familiar voice shouting. Turning his head to the side, Robin cursed and grabbed his head as the action caused him a massive headache. Ser Arys was sprinting to him as fast as he could, running down the stairs and pushing men aside like they were straw. The man was jumping down the stairs eight steps at a time, wincing every now and then something Robin was sure would come back to haunt him later.

Feeling something wet around his forehead, Robin rubbed the area and cursed again when he found it was slick with blood. No wonder he couldn't see out of his left eye. Forgetting Ser Arys for a moment, the boy observed his surroundings.

Dead bodies were everywhere, and in places one would not think to see them. The blast of Wildfire had thrown the bodies everywhere, Robin was sure Ser Broom was already dead by now. He could only hope that his own teacher the Old Knight was still alive and kicking somewhere.

The rest that were alive looked like they'd been through hell. Robin could see the morale and will to fight quickly draining out of them, then went completely down the drain as the first Ironborn, led by a large man bearing the sigil of house Merlyn finally stepped foot onto the grounds of The Rock.

'This wasn't supposed to happen... my calculations didn't include a fucking bomb of all things.' he thought, sitting there helplessly as more and more soldiers came through.

Over half of the troops within the grounds were dead, and the other half were in panic and disarray. The line was broken, their morale torn to pieces and it seemed as if all hope was already lost in their hearts. Robin glared defiantly and forced himself to stand.

The Crown Prince of Westeros didn't even hesitate.

Taking a deep breath, Robin opened his mouth and _roared._

The sound that came was piercing loud, almost as loud as the Wildfire explosion that left many ears deaf and ringing. That one scream, that single sound emitting wasn't meant to boost the men. It wasn't meant to bring hope, it was desperation given voice.

It was one of anger, frustration, one of _fury._

The Crown Prince, drew his sword and started running pushing his body further than ever before, running almost twice as fast as any other man alive could ever hope to. Robin was like blur as he rushed towards the opened gates.

The men stared in awe and wonder as their own Crown Prince, a boy who looked like he was barely in his teens dashed into the fray, alone and unprotected.

Then came the horror as they realized a boy of _eight_ charged into the fray, _alone._

Arys Oakheart would remember this day for the rest of his life, where other men dropped their weapons, giving up hope. The Eight-namedays Prince had charged, knowing he would be alone in doing so. It was as if the Warrior himself had come down and possessed the Black-Haired Prince.

The Knight and the rest of the men stared as their Prince ran impossibly fast, even faster than a horse, towards the invaders.

His heat soared with hope, and the Kingsguard drew his blade.

"To the Prince! To the Prince!" Ser Arys roared, leading the men after their Leader. The defenders gained a second wind, boosted purely by morale and willpower as they charged as one into the gates.

Robin's eyes flashed green, the very color of the Killing Curse and time slowed down, he felt his feet smash against the ground, his legs moving faster than was was thought possible. For a moment, Robin closed his eyes, feeling the cold air against his skin. The New moon tortured everyone with imperfect vision, everyone but him.

He could see every face, every wrinkle and every facial expression by these Ironborn attackers. The howling winds of the sea screamed into his ears, reminding him of the vision brought on by dementors.

 _Schlink!_

And the first kill was made, his blade stained red and the first head flew. But he did not stop there, his kept moving, like an ant in an army of giants, he dodged, rolled, jumped, tuned and parried.

His blade moved faster than ever, the sharp edge drawing more blood, felling more men and decapitating more heads. Everything turned into a blur, his world starting to stain red.

Robin stopped seeing faces, only lumps of meat as he cut a bloody swath through the Krakens. At some point, reinforcements joined him in the battle, but Robin never stopped, not letting himself take even the slightest of breaks.

He could feel himself starting to tire, but more Ironborn came at him, at them.

Stabbing his sword into a random man's chest, Robin twisted his body, pivoting as he brought the sword up split the soldier from navel to brains. No matter how they tried, none of them could truly hurt him. He was a hurricane of destruction, cutting down men wherever he went. Jumping six feet in the air, Robin's blade glinted as his brought it down with a mighty shout, cleaving a soldier in two.

Immediately after he landed, the boy was forced to lean back as a blade swung in an arc, cutting the area where his neck was. He manged to kill the one holding that blade too, decapitating the man with ease.

Out of nowhere, and Ironborn came at him from the side, lunging at him ferociously, sword in hand and murder in his eyes. The man was like snail compared to him, Robin would cut him down easily.

Except when he moved to do so, the black-haired boy slipped and lost his balance from the copious amounts of blood that flooded the ground.

The sword easily made it's way into his stomach, the steel driving through all the way to the hilt. Robin stared helplessly as the Ironborn grinned viciously, screaming something into his face.

But he couldn't hear, it was all just dull noises. The last thing Robin saw was the man's slowly falling decapitated head, followed by the face of his sword-teacher, screaming at him.

* * *

Tyrion Lannister felt shameful, just enough to make him want to hit himself but not enough to make him go out there. Instead the Imp of Casterly Rock stayed here, with the women and children.

Speaking of children, Tyrion was horrified to learn that his nephew was participating in the current battle. At first he thought it was just a joke, until the other members of the family confirmed it.

The Half-man didn't understand. To him, Cersei's only redeeming quality was her love for her children. Why would the woman let her firstborn go? He knew that the Prince wouldn't be fighting, only standing there for show but still..

He was about to confront her when suddenly the doors starting banging, causing the citizens of the hall to panic and scream. Tyrion held the dagger in his belt nervously, he knew he'd never killed before but this was his life on the line.

"Who goes there!" Boros Blount shouted, drawing his sword, his fellow Kingsguard doing the same.

"Your Lord-Commander! Now open the damned door!" a voice he knew all too well replied.

Sheathing their blades, the two hurriedly when to open the doors, removing the many obstacles they had put against the door to reinforce it.

Tyrion wished the door hadn't opened. His heart stopped in his chest as Ser Barristan carried the ruined form of an eight-year-old inside, screaming for the Maester. The old man quickly placed him in the middle of the room, afraid to move the boy any further.

The people in the hall gasped and cried out in horror, moving closer to look but they were warned off by the Lord-Commander, who was swiftly explaining the Prince's injuries to the Maester.

"Concussion..multiple lacerations, head wounds, multiple stab wounds in the torso...an arrow in his left leg... one also pierced his palm.." the Old Knight spoke, slowly crushing the hearts of everyone in the room as the extent of the Prince's injuries were revealed.

It was then the spell on Cersei Baratheon finally broke.

* * *

 _to be continued_


	5. Chapter 5 - Siege of Casterly Rock II

**Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter still do not belong to me.**

 **21/07/2017 9;04 PM- Updated**

 **Word Count increased by 1000, Grammar mistakes fixed as best as possible.**

 **25/02/2018 - Re-Written.**

* * *

-5-

King Robert remembered briefly the last time his emotions completely took over. It was when Rhaegar Targaryen had stolen Lyanna Stark away from him, He had risen up in rebellion, crushed the Targaryen Dynasty and had taken the dragon's place on the Iron Throne.

Many wondered what the King would do. There was a healthy mix of fear and curiosity as Westeros witnessed once again the Fury of a Baratheon, but Robert knew he couldn't do anything, he was on the other side of the continent and he couldn't suddenly sprout wings out of his arse.

Robert had exhausted all the raven in King's landing, all but threatening his vassals to take up arms against the rebels. His brother Stannis had gone to assemble the fleet at the Arbor, gathering an enormous armada to assault the Iron Islands. Renly had begged to join but Robert had ordered the young man to keep safe at Storm's End. Robert wasn't going to let his youngest brother experience another war so soon.

To his old friend Eddard "Ned" Stark, Robert had only needed to send a letter. The Northerners were mustering an army of Ten-Thousand, which then would be led by the Lord Stark himself, to strike down the enemies of the crown with extreme prejudice.

Dorne had agreed to send just over Five-thousand as a show of loyalty to the crown. Robert supposed it was enough considering what Dorne went through during his own rebellion against the Mad King.

The Tyrells, The Arryns and The Westerlander Lords all had also sent thousands of men to the temporary Royal Army of Westeros.

Looking down at the reports in his hand, Robert had mentally decided to send help to House Mallister at Seaguard. It appeared that they were going to be under siege soon and Robert would make sure that Jason Mallister would receive help.

Then he would go to lift the Siege on Casterly Rock, Row his arse down towards the Iron Islands and slaughter the whole fucking Greyjoy Family and all that supported them. He would make sure that their Castle would be nothing but a pathetic pile of rubble when he was done with them.

Any man, woman or child that called themselves Ironborn would be put to the sword. And that so called...King..

Robert swore to every god there is that Balon Greyjoy would suffer a pain so evil his soul would break into pieces, just like Rhaegar's did on the Trident.

No one would survive his wrath.

Westeros would once again bear witness to the Baratheon's house words, tenfold.

 _ **Ours is the Fury**_

* * *

The first thing he saw was a great, blinding white light. Closing them quickly, lest his eyes burn out, Robin sat up. Sitting there for a few moments, Robin could feel the light weaken behind his lids, he waited until it matched the rays of the sun before opening them once more.

To his surprise, the young boy found himself in King's Cross Station. Standing up, Robin was shocked once again to find his body free of all wounds. Taking a deep breath, the boy wondered if he died again, since the last two times he did as Harry James Potter he ended up here.

 _ **"Master..."**_

"What the fuck?"

Robin Whipped around so fast he almost got whiplash. The voice came from behind him, but there was nothing there. Looking around quickly, the boy tried to figure out where the voice came from, and why it was so damned familiar.

 _ **"Hearken unto me...o' Lord of mine.."**_

That came from right beside him. Muscles coiling tightly in his legs, Robin jumped as far as he could, landing quite a few distances away. His eyes widened in horror as a floating black mass of energy and tendrils sat five feet above ground. The entity seemed to absorbed all light from the room.

Slowly, the mass of darkness coalesced into the form of a Human Being, or what appeared to be one. The man-like entity stood at nearly nine-feet tall, the only visible parts of it were it's face, feet, hands... and the two massive bird-like wings behind it's back.

"You..." Robin said, slowly coming to a realization of it's identity.

 _ **"I am the**_ _**End**_ , _ **the Beginning and the Constant...the one you call..Death."**_ the entity, now known as Death spoke. Robin's knees buckled as he laid his eyes upon this... thing.

Before, it spoke with the voice of a child, while bearing the visage of an old man. Now it spoke in the soft tones of a woman... while wearing the face of a child. On and on it went, a young lady, then a toddler, then it changed into an old man.

"You called me Master... that means the Deathly Hallows were real! But-!" he rambled, fear suddenly gone.

 _ **"Questions...so much questions...ask if you will, this loyal servant will comply..."**_ Death returned, looking impossibly subservient, if possible.

"I was supposed to die...you brought me here.. to Westeros. Why?" Robin questioned, features drawn into a frown.

 _ **"DIE!?"**_ the entity boomed, it's voice turning to a terrible shriek that had King's Cross shaking dangerously.

 _ **"Master cannot die... Master will NEVER DIE!"**_ it screamed, the voice chillingly similar to Lily Potter's death scream at the hands of Voldemort.

 _ **"Yes..Master stays...he stays...you'll stay with me? Forever?"**_ Ginny Weasley asked him...tears flowing down her cheeks. Death's voice had calmed somewhat, to be replaced by one of immense sorrow. She looked exactly as she did when Harry found her on the battlefield, right before Rabastan Lestrange cut her head of with Snape's Cutting Curse.

Looking at that face, the face that haunted him, Robin's heart broke into pieces as Ginny rambled about being together once more, rebuilding Godric's Hallow and living there for the res of their days.

The he realized it really wasn't Ginny... it was impossible, he buried her body himself!

An Impossible Rage burned through him. He felt his gut on fire, his throat tearing from the screams of rage emitting from his lips. Every pore on his skin bleed pure anger, wisps of blue mist swirled around him and Robin pointed his finger at the Visage of Ginny Weasley, screaming out the spell he knew so well, the one he used to kill, the very same that killed him.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ the world turned green, not unlike the color of Wildfire. The largest and most powerful version of the Killing Curse ever cast flew from his finger and hit Death, blasting the figure back some distances.

Still breathing heavily, panting from the exertion, Robin glared viciously at the figure...

'Wait, where did it go?' he thought quickly. His was forcefully torn from his inner thoughts when a bony hand grabbed him by the throat.

 _ **"That spell... the spell that sends mortal souls to me... what use is a transportation spell against me, Lord Potter?"**_ Death mocked, or rather, Dumbledore mocked.

"Fuck off!" he gasped, clawing at the hand chocking him softly.

 _ **"Why do you hate me so Robert? I only have love to give you my master"**_ the thing pleaded, unknown to Robin, who now wore the face of Daenerys Targaryen, the dragon girl who escaped with her brother to Essos.

"You took me from them...my f-family...I was supposed to see them...mom and dad...sirius...Ron, Neville and Ginny!" he screamed, gasping for air when Death released him.

 _ **"It is your destiny...I will say no more. But remember my master, you have another family here...one that loves you just as much as the last one did."**_ a young face spoke, a girl it was. She bore hair as black as he did, a eyes even a deeper blue than the ones he possessed.

 _ **"Ah... the light calls to you now.. I have a mind to not let you go... it seems that The so called 'Seven' and that impertinent Fiery Demon has gotten arrogant... "**_

Robin laid there helplessly as the figure, who now wore his mother's face leaned towards him.

 _ **"The sacrifice has been made..you heart will die when you wake... and so magic will return to the land once more..."**_ Death said, leaning further to kiss him on the forehead.

A immense bright light enveloped him, crushing him into a ball and he knew nothing..

* * *

Cersei Baratheon felt...she felt nothing. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak. The Haze that held her mind in place finally dissipated. She heard screaming, a long drawn out terrible and agonizing scream.

She hated it, she wanted it to stop, it was so sad and full of pain, it made her heart clench in grief. The sorrow threatened to take her over.

Her throat hurt..why did it hurt? She couldn't breathe...her eyes burned..and...she was screaming.

It was _her._ She was the one screaming.

Why was she screaming? It couldn't be that...that body before her couldn't it? Who was that? That child...no child should have such wounds inflicted upon him. Whose child was it? She prayed to the Seven that the boy's mother wouldn't be alive to see her son in such a state.

But wait...wasn't that her son? Isn't that..

"Your Grace! Your Grace please move! The Maester needs his space!" a voice called out to her, pulling her back.

"NO!" she screamed, clawing at the arms holding her.

"Robert! Robert! My baby!" she raved, kicking out and punching everywhere, trying to escape.

More hands grabbed her, keeping her away, she wanted to scream. Then a familiar figure appeared before her. She snarled viciously at her Aunt Genna, screaming obscenities and spitting at her.

Genna had enough, raising her palm in the air, she brought in down slapped the Queen so hard she saw stars.

"Enough." she said, face as if it was carved out from marble.

"His Grace requires medical aid. You will stop this madness and get a hold of yourself! You people need you, your sons need you!" she said, her blonde hair sticking to her face and neck, she was wet with sweat.

Cersei fell to the ground before her aunt, sobbing helplessly as she watched her son bleed out on the floor.

"I let him go...why did I do that?" she asked, sniffing and crying.

"I don't know...but you must calm..I can't imagine what you must be feeling.. but you must calm. The people need you." Genna answered, rubbing her back slowly in circles.

But she didn't care. She wasn't like her son, she wasn't like her noble black lion. The people could go to hell for all she cared. Her son was dying, the light of her life was slowly losing his life. Why did she let him go?

 _ **Thump! THUMP! THUMP!**_

The whole hall plunged into silence as the door shook terribly. Again it came, even louder this time.

"Everyone Quiet!" Barristan selmy whispered harshly, his voice carried easily, letting everyone hear.

Arys Oakheart was presumably dead. The man would rather die than let the enemy so close to the people he was supposed to protect. Ser Barristan drew his sword, Ser Boros and Ser Meryn following.

They were the only three swords in the room currently, which was better than nothing, but still bad considering they had to protect over fifty people with only three swords at their side. Already he knew that most wouldn't probably live to see tomorrow.

The door shook again this time, the reinforced woods they had place on the door broke down. The door opened just a bit, losing out to battering ram outside the large doors. Taking advantage, Ser Meryn dashed forwards and thrust his blade into the opening, crying out in victory as a scream was heard outside.

But that only prompted the Ironborn to try twice as hard; within two more strikes, the door flew right opened, knocking Trant into the ground. Barristan counted exactly thirty Ironborn soldiers outside.

The Kingsguard barely escaped with his life. He manged to roll out of the way of the Ironborn's descending blade and stabbed the wielder through his eye. Trant realized it was the same man he got just moments before. The Kraken fell down in a heap, clutching his bleeding face, he died within seconds. It was a tiny victory, Ser Barristan thought, but it increased their chances of survival none the less.

And just like that, now there were Twenty-nine.

Barristan knew if he stayed to protect the Royal Family then they would suffer heavy losses. He knew this situation, he had been in it before during the Battle of Nine-Penny Kings. It was just after he had cut through a bloody swathe through the Golden Company and slew Maelys the Monstrous. Barristan remembered being surrounded by twenty men; he barely escaped with his life.

He had to fight to them, surprise them quickly and cut them down one by one. With a cry, the Old Knight dashed forwards, taking advantage of the stunned Ironborn that a man would willing charge into a group of thirty alone.

The few seconds of distraction was all he needed to kill Three more.

Now there were Twenty-Six.

Meryn Trant did try, but it took all he could to survive. The man was barely above average in his skill with the sword and it show. He was struggling to keep the invaders back. Some of the Ironborn went to the take hostages, pressing knifes to their throats but the Kingsguard gritted their teeth and slugged on, closing their hearts to the deaths of the people.

By now the inhabitants of the hall were screaming in horror, most of them pressing themselves to one side, the side furthest away from the enemy soldiers. The braver ones were trying to escape through the entrance, some made it, some didn't.

Children were killed, their mother's along with them. Still the Kinsguard fought on.

And on and on the fought, suffering many wounds but never fatal. Slowly the enemy numbers fell, but when the count hit ten; Ser Boros fell.

Now there were two Kingsguard, Ser Meryn trying to fend off three men, while the Old Knight dealt with the seven. Almost half of the people had fallen to an Ironborn sword, murdered brutally in the melee.

Arving Lannister tried to save his little Alyn from being a hostage, he was successful but died instantly as a knife entered his brain. Cersei the Queen had pulled her son back as far as she could, trying to keep him out of sight but she was spotted by a particularly vicious looking Ironborn.

Tyrion Lannister cowered with his dagger, using his small stature to hide under dead bodies, the dwarf was shaking and sobbing. The Imp just saw Anna Lannister die by sword to the heart, it was too much for him.

Genna had seen him do so, and had thrown Joy Hill and Rosamund under a dead body as well.

Barristan was helpless as another one broke off from the fighting group, and headed straight for the Prince's body.

The People were in disarray, nobody saw the sneaky soldier head for the royal family. All except one.

Jenny the Serving Maid spotted the man from a mile away. He could see the Queen glaring defiantly at the enemy, one hand holding a dead soldier's blade and the other holding a crying and screaming Joffrey. It looked as if the Queen would die with her sons today.

Jenny wasn't going to let that happened. She would not allow her best friend, nor let him lose his family. Hitching up her skirt, the girl ran as fast as she could, quickly closing the distance. Her red hair jumped around wildly on her head, her blue eyes shining with love and hope as she went to save her Prince.

The Ironborn never saw her. The bloodied soldier disarmed the Queen easily, and kicked her in the face so hard the woman was left on the edge of consciousness. Poor Joff fell from her arms, hitting the floor head first and drawing blood.

"Time to die little Prince! For King Balon!" he screamed and brought the blade down in an arc that would surely cut the Prince's head off. He would carry the damned thing around like a trophy in revenge against the Prince for slaughtering numerous amounts of his own men.

Closer and closer the blade got, but just as he was sure that the blade would make it's mark, a figure jumped in between them. The Ironborn's eyes widened as he saw as his sword sliced cleanly through muscle and bone. The Girl's head flew like a ball and landed on the Prince's stomach.

The body twitched in place for a few moments before copious amounts of blood spurted out. The body then fell like marionette that had it's strings cut.

It was at that exact moment the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms awoke.

And then His heart died.

* * *

 _to be continued_


	6. Chapter 6 - Siege of Casterly Rock III

**Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter still do not belong to me.**

 **I didn't proof read**

 **oh yeah wildfire was just an asspull that i wrote while half-drunk, i guess i'll make up a reason later.**

 **told u i'm not that good. don't expect too much and you won't be disappointed. some of you take this too seriously, i swear one of you even called my grandmother a prostitute or smth loooool.**

 **25.02.18 -Rewritten**

* * *

-6-

Robin's eyes opened slowly. His eyes met the ceiling of the Casterly Rock's great hall and instantly he knew something was wrong. Groaning heavily, Robin sat up and was shocked to the core when a blade hovered mere inches from his face. Looking up, Robin saw an already dead Ironborn standing before him. The soldier's face was stuck in soundless scream with a sword pierced cleanly through his throat.

He heard a grunt and the body was kicked away, revealing Barristan Selmy in all his glory. The man's Kingsguard army was stained red and black from the battlefield. His helmet was nowhere to be found, and his cape looked tattered.

Robin sighed in relief, grateful for the save. He had no doubts that his pretty little head would be rolling on the floor if it hadn't for the Old Knight's timely intervention.

"Ser Barristan, I owe you my thanks.." he breathed out.

"Ser Barristan...?" he questioned, frowning heavily when the Knight did not answer him. Turning his head, Robin inspected the the room in horror as he spotted more three dozens dead bodies.

"W-what happened here?" he demanded, stuttering.

"Your Grace...I-I.." the man spoke, but couldn't bring himself to say whatever it is he wanted to say.

"Speak up Ser...w-what happened? It is my mother? Did something happen to her? Or Joffrey? You must tell me!" Robin half-shouted. He would have stood up but the weight on his legs, combined with the leftover wounds after Death's half-cocked healing restrained him from doing so.

"Robin...Look _down."_ the man said, a million emotions flashing through those deep, aged eyes. Suddenly Robin knew.

Hands trembling, Robin touched the familiar weight on his lap. He didn't want to look, he already knew what was it that was resting on his lap. The feeling was all too familiar. He had done this a thousand times before. His hands moved slowly, brushing the silky _(red)_ hair tenderly.

Moving his hands down, Robin's lips trembled uncontrollably as he touched felt the familiar button nose, the cracked lips from dry heat, the freckles dotted around her face. This couldn't true was it? Maybe it was a test... or a vision from death, meant to teach him a lesson for the disrespect he threw in the being's face. Yes that was it...or maybe..

Maybe it was just a dream? should he look down? Yes, yes it must be a dream.

The Crown Prince broke into pieces when he finally did look down.

"No.." he whispered in denial. But there was no use denying...the truth was right there in front of him.

There was so much blood... a sea of it covering his lower body. Slowly and tenderly, he gripped the severed head with both hands by the cheeks, as if it was made of glass.

"Robin.." he heard somebody say in the background, but their words wouldn't reach him.

Blood was still dripping from the neck.. like tiny little raindrops it fell. Even in death she was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Her eyes were closed... good. Robin didn't want to see those dead, glassy eyes staring back at him. Just like Ginny's eyes...

Slowly, he brought the head forward and hugged it, crying for his only friend.

It was a truly revolting sight.

* * *

Outside, the Crown Loyalists struggled against the Ironborn Rebels. They were outnumbered three to one and were losing ground quickly. Already a few of the Rebels had managed to break through the lines, infiltrating the Castle where their objective was.

Ser Arys Oakheart cursed himself a thousand times for failing in his duty. He cursed the Gods for abandoning them to die, he cursed the Ironborn for their stupid fucking Rebellion.

The Kingsguard Knight estimated the line could be held for only another quarter an hour before they broke.

He had tried his best, shouting commands as his sword swung in deadly arcs but the enemy was too numerous. Morale was at its lowest. Most of the men had gaped in awe as the Crown Prince slaughtered men left and right. He remembered how the boy's blade would kill three men at once, how their blood coated him from head to toe, turning him completely red.

The men had followed his lead, charging in ferociously, hoping to drive through the middle of the enemy's formation and break them apart. Then something horrible had happened.

An Ironborn sword somehow found it's way into the Prince's stomach, the blade drove through all the way to the hilt, impaling the boy like meat on stick. The men had been enraged, their hearts burning in anger as their eight-namedays-prince, the boy who should have been thousands of miles away from a battlefield, the one who had sacrificed his life to help them, to protect them, fell on his back; seemingly dead.

The Lord-Commander had quickly avenged their Prince, lobbing of the the enemy's head and quickly carrying the boy inside.

Making full use of the adrenaline and utter hate for the Ironborn festering in the Royalist's hearts, Ser Arys lead another ferocious charge, hoping to break the Ironborn's assault.

But it was too late, the Ironborn kept coming, fiercer than ever before, their own numbers were dwindling quickly and there was nothing they could hope to do. The men of Casterly Rock were too weak to contest another Ironborn charge.

All hope was lost.

Or was it?

Ser Arys was one of the first to feel it; a slow, weak tremor in the ground that was quickly gaining strength. Then came the crashing waves smashing into the cliffs. The lightning storms arrived soon after followed by rain so heavy one could only see a few yards away.

The Greatest Storm that would be recorded in history ravaged Casterly Rock, destroying everything in sight.

The Kingsguard shouted as loud as his lungs let him, calling for a retreat but the thunder easily drowned his voice in the slowly building song of destruction. Cursing loudly, he sheathed his sword and limped his way back.

The battlefield was a senseless, sightless place of death. No one could see but three feet across and the rain felt like little stones being lobbed down from the heavens. The cracking of thunder was deafening. The lightning strikes were blinding, at this point, no one was winning.

Briefly, he thought the end of the world was near. Even the screams of soldiers were drowned out by mother nature's unforgiving assault.

But that thought disappeared as fast as it came when his squinted eyes made a out a very blurry figure...in the sky? Yes that's what it was, a short, vaguely human shape standing in the sky that shone like a second sun.

The Knight thought nothing of it as his legs finally gave out, the limbs failing him as he exhausted his final vestiges of energy. The last thing he saw was more rain as he succumbed to sweet unconsciousness.

* * *

It wasn't the pain anymore. The pain was already long gone by now. Robin's Baratheon blood burned hotly, his head was nothing but a mass of pounding, cruciatus-like pain. But his heart remained cold as ice.

As his feet slowly lifted off from the ground by a power that wasn't his, Robin held up the head one last time, trying to picture her beautiful face smiling one last time before it disappeared, forever. Even from his heart.

Now, high up in the air, the Prince's hand slowly grew hot, like cold water slowly boiled by flame. With but a distant thought, the heat grew faster, until his palms were red as steamed rose from the unharmed appendage.

With a deep breath, the severed head of his only friend burned quickly into nothingness, the ashes dance across the rising winds only serving to remind him of harsh reality.

But it wasn't without payment. Harry - NO, Robincould feel his previous meager amount of magic in his body rise tenfold, now he could _use_ it, project it into the world to do his bidding. As the storm clouds gathered, as the lightning flashed, Robin's magic rose in tandem.

It wasn't enough he thought. The payment wasn't enough!

"I DEMAND PAYMENT!" the Prince roared into the skies! A burst of pure blue light enveloped him like a lover's caress. The slight rain had now transformed into a monstrosity that threatened to eliminate all life beneath his floating form.

"DEATH!" He screamed once more! His wrathful Baratheon Storm blood was boiling! His magic was rising higher than ever! It's awesome power flashed outwards in arcs of crackling blue.

"I DEMAND RIGHTFUL PAYMENT! STRIKE! STRIKE MY ENEMIES DOWN! I DEMAND PAYMENT!" his wrath was reaching a crescendo, his eyes bulge as his dark raven hair whipped about without restrained.

"THE SACRIFICE HAS BEEN MADE! LET ALL THOSE WHO CALL THEMSELVES IRON BE DESTROYED!" every word was followed by strikes of lightning that burned through the air, the onslaught vaporizing scores of Greyjoy soldiers.

A blast of cold air caught the raging Prince's attention. There in the clouds was shape...an enormous shadow that he struggled to make out.

An ever-changing face...a scythe and too many wings to count.

 _"Just this once..."_

* * *

Tywin Lannister would be lying to himself if he said he was not worried in the slightest about Casterly Rock. The 'Lion's Doom' the bards were calling it. The Greatest Storm in history.

Tywin could not refute that, even thought he was going to die when the worst of the storms hit the Golden Tooth, where most of the banners were situated. The original Plan was to march on to meet Northern forces of Lord Eddard.

Obviously that wasn't going to happen now. The Storm had ravaged the camp, and while most men came out unharmed, their supplies did not. Tents were ruined, foods were spoiled and weapons were lost. It was a complete disaster that no one could have predicted.

Most men had taken it as divine intervention, that the Gods were not happy with this war, that it was a command by them to stop all disputes. The Old Lion was inclined to agree. The raging monstrosity of rain, lightning, thunder and wind disappeared as fast as it came. That was not natural, even he knew that.

He was slightly grateful that his brother Kevan had taken the initiative to rise a few tents for him and the other important generals. Here he was sipping what little wine they had left, Tywin sighed, rubbing his forehead.

People called him heartless, ruthless, merciless and without compassion.

But all the Old Lion could think of now was his family's safety.

* * *

"W...w-what is this?" Balon Greyjoy almost begged, begged that the raven bore the wrong message. Because this...this was impossible.

"It is no lie brother, the messages speaks true. Every single man was wiped out, Casterly Rock is filled with nothing but death now." Victarion answered. The large man, ever in his full-plate armor was just as shocked as his King was.

They had not sent that many men to assault the Lannister's seat of power but their numbers were not as little as to suffer complete annihilation. The Iron Islands was in an uproar. Prayers had increase a thousandfold, the men and women of the lands were begging the Drowned God to save them from the hated Storm God's wrath.

It was the only reasonable explanation for the horrifying disaster that struck the Westerlands. The Drowned men were running like chickens with their heads off, and Aeron...well the least said about him the better. Victarion didn't think that a member of his family could perform such a deed.

"What will we do now your Grace? a quarter of our fleet was wiped out as well, we lost many men and morale has...drowned."

Balon shot a dirty look at his brother for the pathetic attempt at a joke and threw the raven scroll into the fireplace.

"We cannot surrender. The Royal family is now compromised of only Robert and his brothers. We _will_ finish what we started. More soldiers brother! Recruit everyone I don't care! Children older than twelve will be fighting for their King! I want all war efforts doubled! I will not surrender! Go brother! Do as you King commands! and be quick about it!" he shouted, back facing his brother.

Victarion wanted to kick his foolish King of his brother in the back of his head, but merely bowed and exited the throne room.

* * *

"Nephew...Robin...wake...must wake...the...Cersei...help..." Robin wanted to kill the man who dared wake him. His eyes, while still blurry, quickly adjusted to the view. Tyrion was shaking him. The Dwarf looked relieved and tired. His uncle turned around and shouted something before turning back to him.

"What...the fuck happened?" he cursed, feeling exhausted. Tyrion let out a burst of weak laughter at the language.

"I do not know nephew, but-!" Tyrion was unceremoniously pushed out of the way like a ragdoll and Robin's vision was replaced by that of a teary-face mother, his mother to be specific.

He barely got the first word out before he was attacked lovingly by a shower of hugs and kisses.

"I was so worried I thought you were dead! I tired chasing after you but they held me back" she sobbed, crushing him in her embrace.

"Ow!" Robin hissed when she brushed against a bruised rib. His body may be healed of fatal wounds but the majority of them was still there, and they hurt like a bitch.

'It's like I've drank a whole fucking vial of cruciatus juice' he thought weakly as his mother continued her never-ending questions.

"W-water" he croaked out. 'And actually fresh water this time, I've had enough of the fucking seawater'

He barely had to wait a few moments before a cup of shoved in front of his face. His experience is the last war taught him that swallowing water like a whale would only harm him so he took slow measured sips.

Dropping on his arse, Tyrion grunted in displeasure as the burned pommel of a sword dug into his ribs.

"Oh get up Uncle, you didn't even fight." Robin snorted, causing a few of drops of water to splash everywhere.

Tyrion didn't respond with words, glaring at the mother-son pair who looked absolutely indifferent.

"But you did." his mother scowled. Her fingers on his shoulders tightened, obviously to inflict a small amount of pain, unfortunately, the Prince only felt a tickle. Nevertheless, he did wince for show just to make his mother feel better. God knows she lost her mind for a moment at the sight of his shattered body just a few hours back.

"Yes well, sorry about that. Can't promise I won't do it again though." he grinned, throwing two thumbs up and laughing at himself.

"You almost died!" Robin winced at the shriek, gods he loved his mother but the woman's screams could put a fully grown-mandrake's to shame.

"We will have words about this! No we will have it now! Listen here young man! You-!" Cersei was cut off from her angry rant by a grimacing Barristan Selmy.

"Ah yes, the hero of the day! What news Lord-Commander?" he said quickly, not looking at his fuming mother.

Barristan smiled at the sitting Prince. Hearing the Royal Child being scolded like an actual boy was a bit disturbing considering the amount of heads he took in battle.

"I'm afraid the only good news is that we won your grace." the knight said, and it was true. The population of Casterly rock was decimated, the defenders had been crushed to a mere fifty survivors, and even those numbers was still dropping due to the infections and fatal wounds.

Casterly Rock looked as if it had been sacked by the Gods themselves. The damage could be repaired in a few years but Ser Barristan was still shocked at the state of the castle. Dead bodies were everywhere, wildfire had eaten through most of the eastern walls near the main gate. Seven hells, even the main gate was gone!

The remaining survivors were doing all the could to help, unfortunately all of them were either too young or too old, and the ones that were just at the right age happened to be women who simply wasn't strong enough to cope with the strenuous activities.

The Lannisters had lost quite a few members of the family, but they were trying their best.

Prince Joffrey was strangely quiet the whole time, it was as if the boy was unaffected, except for the time when he would cry out for his mother and brother.

He told all this to the Queen and Prince, but mostly the Prince. It wasn't as if he thought less of the Queen, it was just that Prince Robin _was_ the one who gave the orders and almost died fighting.

It was very clear to them who was truly in charge.

But everyone thought it was still strange that said person was still a boy.

"I'm afraid Ser Barristan, I can only offer two words in regards to our current situation." Robin said, looking dead serious, staring into his mother's eyes and the old knight.

"Yes son?" she asked softly, weaving circles across her son's cheek with her thumb.

"We're fucked." he deadpanned.

The soft caressing hand stiffened for a moment, before drawing back and striking the same cheek that it was softly massaging before.

"Ow!"

* * *

 **I'm a bit confused guys, wasn't Elia's Aegon still alive when 'Jon Snow' or 'Sand' was born? That means there was two Aegon Targaryens? does that mean the writers are scrapping young griff? huh? what? I swear I thought it would be Jahaerys or something. Even Vhaegar or Viserion since Jon would be named Visenya if he was a girl. Thoughts?**

 **btw, that last scene with NK was op as fuck. just saying tho.**


	7. Chapter 7 - Before The Game

**Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter still do not belong to me.**

 **Robert's Bastard 'Gendry' will be born in 282 A.C instead of 284.**

 **I DID NOT PROOF READ AGAIN.**

 **Re-Written 25/02/2018**

* * *

 **-7-**

"He's been asking me..again." the King said. The Ruler of Westeros looked grim as he and his wife stared down at the courtyard where their eldest son was trouncing the other Knights without difficulty.

"Not yet, he's too young." she answered, looking uncharacteristically desperate.

King Robert and his Queen rarely disagreed on matters, but the topic of their son always brought on a sort of intense tension between the couple. The two of them had tried hard to be in love, to be husband and wife, but it was not meant to be. Cersei's infatuation for the King had long since faded, and Robert's heart could not find the strength to love another woman, not again.

The couple had settled for being close friends, friends with children that is. They held no secrets from one another, well..except one. Cersei had forgiven Robert's only bastard from their marriage, the boy was here, in King's Landing. The only reason she had spared the boy's life was because Robert had been completely honest with her and apologized for dishonoring her. The King had told her as soon as he found out, which was already years later into the boy's life.

Robert even allowed Cersei to name the boy in her honor, and given her complete control over the direction his life would take. The Queen accepted the 'gift' and made sure the bastard received basic necessities. The child would be cared for, he would live with the septons and when he came of age, start training to be a knight so he could serve his siblings. He would be told of his true heritage when Cersei deemed it and the bastard would take an oath to never attempt beyond his station.

Jason Waters would serve the family or die.

But the Queen would not risk revealing her own bastards. Joffrey and Tommen would surely be sent away at best, and if Robert wasn't feeling merciful... she shuddered to think what would happen to her sons. She was thankful Myrcella was born green-eyed and black of hair. Robin would surely defend his siblings to the death, but still she would not take the risk. Incest was not looked upon with kind eyes, not after the Targaryens.

Tommen and Joffrey would marry and start new branches of the Baratheon family, while their Brother continued the true and royal line down at King's Landing. She had taken many steps, and many lives to conceal this, it was fullproof and she knew it.

It was hypocritical of her, but she didn't care. They were her children and they would be safe.

Speaking of children...

"He's getting older...how long will you make him hate me? The boy needs this. He must!" Robert insisted, his voice low and harsh.

"Ten and three is to young to be touring the continent!" she argued vehemently.

"At least it's this continent! Did you know he wanted to go to Essos!? Conquer the disputed lands!? Bah! I do not understand the boy. Seven Kingdoms is not enough? He would cross over and turn it into Eight Kingdoms!" Robert snorted. Baratheons loved war, but that was just wasteful, not to mention unneeded! Ruling Seven Kingdoms was already a chore and the boy wanted to add one more?

He didn't need it, not to mention the threat of all out war between Westeros and Essos. The Prince of the Seven Kingdoms bringing a land of Essos to heel? What was the other countries supposed to think?

"Red Robin they call him, as if he was some monstrous bird of prey..."

"His nameday will be coming soon, I will give him permission then, I will not hear anymore arguments! The King commands it!" Robert said, as he drew to his full height. He was no longer the demon of the trident, not longer the antlered god on the battlefield, but he was still very intimidating even when he did not want to.

Cersei gritted her teeth, doing all she could to hold her tongue and proceeded to walk away, not bothering to reply.

* * *

"Clegane! Stop being a cunt and get in here!" Robin shouted. The Hound, Sandor Clegane glared briefly at Crown Prince and proceeded to walk into the circle, specifically drawn for sparring.

"And take off that fucking helmet will you? You look ridiculous!" the Hound looked downright murderous by now as he took off his helmet at threw it at a poor squire who struggled to catch the piece of steel.

"You! Get in here!...and..Waters! In here, now!" there were many 'oohs' and sound of pity from the small crowd as the three contestants got into the ring. One looked scared, one determined, the other just looked like he wanted to go shit.

Standing in the middle was the Prince himself. His black hair was cut short, just like it was when he was Harry Potter and he wore simple leathers for armor and had a sword strapped to his hip.

The years had been kind to the boy, he now stood a little over six feet, which was astounding since it all happened in only a span of a year or two. Before that Robin himself thought he was a dwarf, which of course allowed many jokes pop up across the Red Keep.

His body was already packed with muscles, and looked as if they still had much more room to grow. All in all, he looked like the classic Baratheon warrior. Broad-shouldered and handsome.

The other Baratheon, or 'Waters' as he was officially known was still growing, he was almost the spitting image of his older brother, something that irked Joffrey to no end. The bastard of the Red Keep, as he was known was brought into the castle a few months ago on orders of the Queen, who apparently deemed it time for the boy to start training.

Robin was extremely annoyed that the information was kept from him. He treated the bastard like any of his brothers, but also like a soldier, something which Jason had mistaken for hate before, but now appreciated as he grew older. Especially when the whispers got too much, or whenever he made contact with his other brother, Joffrey.

The second Prince had hated him the moment they met, and he throw it in front of Jason's face every single time, never failing to remind him of his place, That he was only a bastard that lived because of the Queen generosity.

Jason was surprised to learn this, and quite a bit sad when he heard his father didn't really care about him. But he quickly taught himself that beggars don't choose. Everything in his life, despite being a bastard was handed to him freely. All he was told to do was swear some vow and train as a knight.

It was more than most could hope for. His eldest brother even told him once he loved him and he would always protect him, not the other way round. Little Tommen and Myrcella were nice enough, they treated him like a friend, but he knew that they would always see him as a bastard, it was just the way they were raised.

The Queen spoke to him only once, right after he knelt before her and his father as he swore to never rise beyond his station. She was aloof, indifferent and distant, but never hateful. Jason had a feeling that would change in an instant if he ever dared step out of line.

Now, ten and twelve, he was a squire to the Lord-Commander himself, Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard. It was an amazing experience, he even got to live in the White Sword Tower in one of the spare rooms that they had. Jason admired Ser Barristan, known as the bold, his name was always spoken when one talked about the best knights in Westeros.

He also admired his brother, the Robert the Warrior, Robert Stormbringer, The Red Robin, all nicknames earned in battle. He was only a year older than him and already his brother had fought in a war. Songs were song about his bravery, of how he threw back the invaders with but a sword in hand, they said he took a sword in the belly but ripped it out and cut down more enemies. Then the Gods, having seen his valor blessed him with their favor and called down a storm to ravage his enemies.

The smallfolks loved him, the nobles admired him, the faith worshiped him.

But Jason at this moment, hated him as he stared into the vicious eyes of The Hound. Glancing to his side, he spotted Michael, his partner shaking like a leaf. Jason groaned slightly, the teen could fight but he wasn't the bravest. His twin William on the other hand could face down the Mountain and smile. Those two brought out the best of each other.

"Right then! Clegane! Knock these two out and you'll have free beer the whole night!" Robin shouted, causing the Hound, if possible to look even more ferocious.

"Waters! and..hmm what was your name again? - yes, yes Micheal...the two of you!" he paused, adopting a thinking pose for a few moments. "Aha! If the two of you managed to knock this tough fucker down I'll buy the two of you new armor, a sword and a horse... _and_ you'll get the whole week off."

Jason grinned madly, any other thoughts not associated with fighting was thrown right out the window. He always wanted a horse, a new sword would not be unwelcome either.

"Begin!" the Prince commanded.

The resulting beat down left him aching for weeks, but it wasn't all so bad, he still got that horse he wanted. Oh how he loved his brother.

* * *

Jaime Lannister hated him, hated _them._ Those Blacked haired pricks were prancing around the Red Keep like they were gods. The useless King, the bastard boy and that fucking Prince. He wanted them all dead.

They had taken his love away from him, his sweet sister would not even look at him now. His touches burned against her skin, his kisses were like poison, his love was rejected over and over again. Cersei said she would always love him, but she didn't _love_ him anymore. It made him tremble in rage, he almost hit her that time, but managed to find himself just in time.

He'd all but exhausted the whores in King's Landing, all those that bore even a passing resemblance to the Queen that is. He didn't know why this would happen. He always thought they were meant to be together forever. It was them, always them against the world, with Tyrion by their side. Their love was divine, it was ordained by the gods. The had shared a womb for nine months and came out from their mother holding hands.

Even unborn they were already lovers.

Jaime had to prevent himself from committing Kin-Slaying many times. He wondered sometimes what would happen if he slowly brought that knife across the boy's throat. Would Cersei love him again? Would she look at him again? Kiss him again?

That...child was the very manifestation of everything that should have been his. It was he who should have been father to his sister's eldest son. It was he who should have been father to a great warrior Prince.

He regretted getting off that throne. He should have killed Ned Stark when the man had the gall to order him off the throne and ask for him to be sent to the wall. He should have separated Robert Baratheon's head from his shoulders when he had the chance. He could do it, he knew he could have. The Lannisters was undoubtedly the strongest House by the end of Robert's rebellion.

Tywin would be king, he and his sister wed, their brother would want for nothing, Tyrion would be his Hand of the King when Jaime rose to power. His firstborn would have been the greatest warrior in history...not Robert's son.

Now he was but a glorified bodyguard, forced to be near the woman he loved but never close enough to love her.

It should have been him...it should have been his...all his.

* * *

Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell was disappointed to learn that he would not be fostering his best friend's bastard. Against his wife's wishes, Ned had immediately sent a raven to Jon Arryn to enlist his aid in convincing Robert to allow Jason Waters to foster in Winterfell. Catelyn was angry at him for a long time, she told him she did not need another bastard here, even if it was the King's Royal Bastard.

It was his hope to have Jon grow up with Jason, to have them be close friends like he and Robert was in the Vale. For some reason Robert had refused. Ned had pointed out that maybe his bastard's life wouldn't be safe in King's Landing, hinting very lightly on the fact that the Queen would do something.

Robert, with all but the subtlety of a bull, had written back that it was Cersei's idea that the boy would be cared for and trained. The war of the Greyjoys had rekindled their dying friendship once more. Letters were frequently exchange and there was even talk of the King coming North in a few months.

Robert had went on and on about how proud he was of his children, specifically, one of his children.

Ned still had reservations about the truth of what really happened on the day of 'The Greatest Storm' in history. They said an eight-namedays Prince led the charge, slaughtering scores of Ironborn before being cut down himself. Robert insisted it was true, and that Ser Barristan, Ser Arys and the Queen had confirmed it.

Five years later there were hundreds of stories, all with their hundreds of variations about the assault of Casterly Rock. It was one of the most interesting points in the war, other than the complete extinction of House Greyjoy.

Yes, every single member of that wretched family had been put to the sword. King Robert himself had personally beheaded all adult members of the disgraced House. The children were given tasteless, painless deaths by way of poison.

It was then a law was instated by the King himself, one that shook the Iron Islands to its very core.

'Change your way of life, or be subjected to Genocide.'

It pained Ned so very much to hear those words spilled out of his friends mouth. It wasn't like the Robert he knew, then again, he didn't think he knew Robert at all anymore. They were close, and still friends, but he was...different.

Kingship had certainly changed him, and Ned wasn't sure if it was for the better.

* * *

Barristan Selmy would never forget it. It was he who knew it all, he who had seen, had witnessed what really happened during the day of the Lion's Doom. He knew that magic once existed, but it had died out along with the Targaryen dragons.

Oh how wrong he was, magic had been performed right in front of him that night. He saw it, saw his Prince fly high into the sky and call upon the destruction of the Ironborn enemy. While the others were busy tending to themselves after that horrifying battle in the Throne room, Barristan had gone running after his Prince as he walked like the dead to the outside. His heart clenched when the head of Jenny was burned into nothingness.

He was stunned, shocked and amazed all at once, but not once was he fearful. He couldn't explain why, but amidst the rain, the lightning and death, he knew that he would be safe, that nothing would kill him that night.

The Prince, after that fateful night had decided not to participate in the war any longer. Instead he had taken control of the rebuilding efforts with the Queen's help and held the Castle until his grandfather returned.

Some nobles had protested the funeral for the Lannisters that died, saying that their bodies should be persevered until the Lord of the Land got home, so he could sent them off himself.

Robin denied them, saying that he would not delay his family's rest just for tradition. Jenny's body was burned without a word.

It was long, tiring and exhausting but the Castle was made an acceptable place to live soon enough. Lord Tywin had hugged, _hugged_ his daughter and siblings in public when he got home, then proceeded to _kneel_ before the future King. Proclaiming him a true lion and bestowed upon him the title 'Shield of Casterly Rock', one similar to his own.

To his knowledge, there were some words whispered between them, words that left the Old Lion _smiling_ of all things.

He thought that was more impossible than magic returning itself.

"Ser Barristan! Ser Barristan!" a young voice called out to him.

The Lord-Commander smiled warmly at the young man that came running towards him.

"Jason, what is it?" he asked, eyebrow raised at all the excitement bubbling in the boy.

"It was amazing! Michael and I managed to give the hound a bruise! He beat us black and blue but brother is buying me a horse! Can you believe it!?" the boy was...something else. Barristan briefly wondered if this was how Robin would turn out if it hadn't be for the Rebellion.

"Jason.." he warned, wagging his finger at the gulping child.

"Yes sorry Ser, I meant Prince Robert is buying me a horse!" he corrected himself.

"Very good Child, I am proud of you." he said, smiling again when the boy whopped an jumped.

"But..The next time I expect the Hound to be on the receiving end of more than a bruise, understand?" he said, faking a frown.

"Yes Ser!" the boy saluted, too caught up on his high he didn't think the boy even heard half of what he said. Dismissing the child, Barristan let him run up back to his room to prepare for dinner, he would be dining with the Royal Family tonight, where the Queen would demand reports on his training and boy, after all was seen as the pseudo-champion of sorts for the Queen. It would not do well for him to tarnish her image.

Looking around the tower felt him with a sense of nostalgia and sadness. Most of the Kingsguard were killed off during the war. Only he, Ser Jaime and Ser Arys were the survivors. Over the years they had refilled the ranks but the seventh.

It was an unspoken agreement that the boy in the last room would take up that spot when he was old enough.

The order of the Kingsguard had welcomed Balon Swann, Richard Horpe and Lyle Crakehall into its prestigious ranks.

All three were competent, followed orders and caused no trouble. Though the Strongboar had once tried to kick out Jason a few weeks after he was brought in.

Prince Robin was not amused, he showed up in the White Sword Tower that night and Crackehall never tried anything stupid again.

Now the Lord-Commander heard rumors about the Prince Touring the continent, to be with all his people and to better himself.

Barristan sighed, staring at the book of brothers. Perhaps there was still room for his pages to be filled.

* * *

 **A/N: Does anyone else think that Rhaegar was kind of a dick? I mean I knew it was for the prophecy, but the way he went about it was just...wrong. Lyanna Stark was not blameless either, but really can't blame her for that. She was what? Fifteen during Bobby B's rebellion?**

 **Oh yeah, I finished reading Percy Jackson a few days ago and couldn't help the Cersei/Jason - Hera/Jason thing. "OOC" i know Flame me idgaf lol.**

 **Fuck I wanted Young Griff and Golden company so bad. Damn it D &D. Jon should have been Aemon or Jaeharys Targaryen.**


	8. Chapter 8 - Before the Game II

**Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter still do not belong to me.**

 **I DID NOT PROOF READ AGAIN X2**

 **You know who I think is the real OP here? NIGHT'S KING. That nigga was flying through the air with blue-eyes dead dragon spewing out magical ice blue fire all over the place. Motherfucker Tormund Giantsbane better be alive! HE BETTER BE!**

 **Anyway I'm really thankful for all the positive reviews. That was really nice of you guys, I understand I can't please anyone I know. I won't try, because that'll just stress me out.**

 **Chapter 8 here we go!**

 **25/02/2018 - Re-Written.**

* * *

-8-

"Your training has been going well, I presume?"

Her voice was cold and distant. Sometimes Jason wondered if the Queen wanted him alive at all. The way she looked at him sometimes was unnerving. Every time he met those harsh green eyes it became more apparent to him that he was nothing more than a weapon in the eyes of the queen.

"Yes your Grace, Ser Barristan thinks that I could be Knighted in a few more years." he answered, looking down at his plate. He was vaguely aware that everyone's attention was glued to him.

Jason both dreaded and excited for the last day of every moon, for it was the day where he would always be summoned to dine with the immediate Royal Family in private. Only the seven of them. It was during this time the Queen would needle him on his affairs and going on's in the Red Keep. How many friends he had, enemies he'd made, his current skills with the blade, horse, lance. She would make sure he spilled out everything that happened during the month concerning himself.

He could barely speak a few sentences without stammering the first time, now he found it just a tad easier to handle his father and the Queen. The trick was eye-contact. He never made eye-contact whenever he spoke to the couple, it was rude, but it was the only way for him to speak properly. Their gazes were too intense, they always were.

"Very good boy, I expect you to keep this up, I heard you managed to do well against the Hound?" his father - no, the King asked. The man's voice was deep, whenever he spoke it was as if the earth rumbled in his chest.

"Yes your Grace, another Squire and-"

"How arrogant!" Joffrey spat, his beautiful Lannister features contorting into an ugly scowl. "You merely gave the Hound a bruise! Don't think too highly of yourself Bastard!" he snarled, hands fisted on the table. The boy's right hand was too close to a knife for comfort.

Joff couldn't help it. He hated the Jason Waters, he loathed the boy that dared to call himself son of the King. He hated the fact that Jason looked more like Robin and their father more than he himself ever did. The bastard was nothing but an up-jumped son of a whore. Joff wanted nothing more than the bastard to die where he sat.

"Be silent Joffrey!" the voice that said made the Prince flinch in shame and embarrassment. Robin frowned, leaning forward to stare at his brother. Their parents kept silent, opting to let their eldest discipline his brother.

"It appears that I have been too lenient with you. I will not have a Prince of Westeros be so disrespectful to family, illegitimate or not! Some hard work would do well to help you remember! Tomorrow you will follow Ser Lyle and his training menu, and you better finish it!" he half-shouted, eyes hard as steel.

"Now you will conduct yourself appropriately at this dinner table or you will leave, understand?" Robin scolded.

Joffrey glared viciously at Jason for a moment and nodded to his brother, muttering apologies to everyone.

Jason groaned silently, great now he had to be in close proximity to the royal prat in the training yards, the only place he where he wasn't looked down upon. Tomorrow the prick would be there. He had no doubts that the blond would try his best to make his life hard.

* * *

Robert II Baratheon had long since gotten over his emotional...problems he picked up as a child during Greyjoy's Rebellion. Losing his dear Jenny was hard, very hard but his mother was right in the end, The pain slowly went away, fading into a dull ache whenever he remembered he beautiful smile, he silky red hair fluttering in the wind like a floating sea of blood.

He almost lost it, he knew he did. Especially when he found out about who she really was. Robin had summoned Death on night, the entity appeared in a dazzling shower of sparks, wearing the face of one Rubeus Hagrid. The Harry inside him wanted to hug the god just for that, it helped him remember the half-giant's face again.

The two of them spoke for a long time, mostly it was Robin asking questions and the Deity giving cryptic answers. The only respond the God gave that was direct was the true identity of his red-headed friend. He cried tears of blood that night.

Jenny _was_ the Reincarnation of Ginny Weasley, it was her all along, just as Robin Baratheon was the reincarnation of Harry James Potter. All this while Robin knew deep in his heart that the red-headed servant was more than just a friend, it was the one fact that he could never change within himself. It was his truth.

The two star-crossed lovers from Earth had defied fate itself, hitting that one in a trillion chance when they had Reincarnated into Westeros together. It was supposed to be happy, it was supposed to be their reward, their paradise.

But Ginny was not the Master of Death, her memories were washed away, her magic had been taken from her and only the barest of imprints were left as she was reborn. She did not know, Robin on the other hand was just too fucking ignorant.

It was a tragic story that would be forgotten, never to be told. They were there with each other all along without knowing.

And now she was dead, gone again, her soul to be sent far away from him. Robin wasn't so sure they would hit that one in a trillion chance ever again. That made it all the more painful. He wasn't so sure what he received in return was worth it.

The payment that Death promised was made. Every Single Ironborn in the Westerlands died that night, and his magic returned, stronger than ever. His body was akin to that of a god's. His strength, speed and durability increased tenfold, his magic was more potent that it was when he was still known as Harry James.

He didn't even need a wand anymore. The entity, Death had chuckled, actually fucking _chuckled_ when Harry asked for the Deathstick. The powerful being told him that the Master of Death had no such need for human weapons. Robin didn't believe him at first but that _Aguamenti_ he cast with only a snap of the finger proved otherwise. As for the cloak of invisibility and the resurrection stone?

Looking down at his hand, Robin traced the tattoo on top of his hand. It was a perfect circle within a triangle. The cloak and the stone were right there, all he needed to do was call them out to use them.

He tried calling her once, she never came back. Death had laughed in the face of his demand to return her. The entity told him that even it would survive if it defied the man above.

Whatever the hell that was.

* * *

The Lords and Ladies of Westeros streamed into King's Landing, most of them adapting to their new environment quite easily, which was surprising, considering King's Landing was one smelly shit-pile on city, or it used to be.

The Prince's efforts was clearly seen, and smelt by everyone. Brand new sewage systems, communal showers, and orphanages. The were rumors that the Prince wanted to create a system called 'Schooling' where even the small-folk could study under teachers and maesters like nobles.

The high-born didn't...quite agree with his plan but the Crown Prince was known for being bull-headed and stubborn. But he knew he couldn't please everyone, it was quite the chore to balance between the Faith, the Commoners and the Uptight High-born.

If you made one happy, the other two would grow angry and jealous, if you gave to one, the other two stomp their feet and demand the same. Honestly it was like dealing with triplets. Annoying, triplets who wanted to kill one another whenever they could.

Robin wasn't so sure about this Nameday celebration. His father sometimes spent money like they fell from the sky. A large feast, a tournament in his honor and gods so much more. He wanted to slap the old man in the back of the head and just ask for a fucking cake with thirteen candles.

From his view in the Tower of the Hand, Robin could make out numerous banners and coat of arms just entering the city and the courtyard. He was pleasantly surprised to see Lannister colors. There was the Star of Dayne, the Donddarions were also here, and he could barely make out a flower as well.

'Huh, what are the odds?' he thought distantly as he slowly made his way out, wanting to greet his family.

"Where's your crown boy?" an aged voice called out just as Robin touched the door-handle.

Normally Robin would throttle the cunt who dared to call him that, but in this case, the man had earned the right. The old bat _was_ decades older than him, and he quite liked him. Jon Arryn was like the polite, distant but loving grandfather to the King's children, surprisingly to the bastard as well.

He was the one Robin went to in order to garner support in his efforts to better the city when he faced opposition from the Small council. Once he had the Hand's full backing, the King had wisely agreed, his brothers following without much complain. Pycelle and Varys didn't make so much noise either, only voicing out their concerns about how it would affect the treasury, and relations with nobles.

Littlefinger, of course tried to contest his proposal. The Cunt always ran his mouth when it wasn't he who was spending the money. But he was good at his job, nay he was the best, but he was the world's biggest sucker.

A few imperio's had fixed every single dent that was made in the royal treasury. The fool still hadn't realized that every single property he held, every coin his banks and purses weren't really his.

As of this year, 'James of House Potter' was one of the richest men in the World. Littlefinger was already dead and he didn't know, it was almost sad. He couldn't completely control the man, as that would raise suspicions, but a few confundus' always helped.

Speaking of the man, Robin found out something very disturbing about him and Lysa Arryn, apparently the two were quite the fuck-buddies back in the day. Robin cursed himself for ever stepping into that memory. That mind's mind was a sticky, stinking web of disgusting.

Although he did find something disturbing there, it was something about a book of lineages and great houses, Robin would have stayed longer but he had to leave in a hurry. He almost regretting doing that, his rushed departure had completely obliterated that memory and the near links that were associated with it.

Robin didn't think to much of it, after all how important could it be?

"I'm not wearing that fucking tiara, it makes me look like a prancing cunt." Robin grunted, turning to look at the Hand of the King. The old man looked amused at the response, almost as if he already knew what he was going to say.

"Give my regards to Lord Tywin will you? and that uncle of yours." he Lord of the Vale said, waving his hand in obvious dismissal.

Snorting lightly, Robin opened the door and stepped outside, making his way downwards and exiting the tower. As he was on his way to the courtyard entrance, he noticed a small figure shadowing him in a poor attempt at stalking.

Quickly hiding behind a pillar, Robin waited for the person in question to appear. It didn't take long, a few moments later light footsteps could be heard, passing by the spot he was hiding in.

"Aha! What do we have here!" Robin jumped out, scaring the poor stalker and picking her up, showering the girl in kisses and hugs.

"No! Stop it Rwobie!" the girl begged while giggling uncontrollably.

Robin smiled at his younger sister, placing her at his hip. The girl looked younger than her age, she was a tiny little thing. Robin could tie her on his back and walk around all day like it was nothing.

"You were following me weren't you? Did we sneak off again?" Robin mocked scolded, tapping the girl's nose. Myrcella pouted, placing a tiny hand on his cheek.

"I wanted to see where you were going!" she squeaked, her big green eyes looked up at him innocently and Robin melted.

"Princess! Princess where are you!?" a strong, masculine voice called out in panic.

In came running a giant of a man. Lyle Crackehall was huge, almost as tall as the hound he was. His white cloak was all rumpled and his Kingsguard helmet was slipping off his head.

"Ah, Crackehall." Robin called out dryly, rubbing his sister back to calm the scared child. Crackehall wasn't much of a beauty and with the way he came bounding like that even Clegane would jump.

"M-my prince!" he stopped, eyes widened just a fraction. "I-I" he stammered, trying to come up with an excuse.

"Close your mouth Crackehall, I'll handle my sister, check on my brothers will you? Make sure those two aren't killing one another, go on now." he ordered, watching the man's back grow smaller until it disappeared.

"Let us go and meet your Grandfather shall we? You know the last time I met him you were still in mother's stomach..."

* * *

Robin stood at the head of the reception, with his sister still in his arms. The girl refused to let go and Robin couldn't find it in his heart to sent her away. It appeared that his father had forgotten to organize a welcoming party. God knows Jon Arryn didn't want anything to do with the Old Lion, Robin didn't think he would just let it be. He was going to throw an egg at that old cunt during the feast later.

His mother was sick, and Uncle Jaime wouldn't leave her bedside. Something which weirded him out a little. Tommen was with the Maester and the other two idiots were no doubt smashing blunt swords over each others heads.

It was just him and little Myrcella.

The Lannister Party arrived first with Lord Tywin at his head, Robin couldn't see his uncle, the man was probably at the back, forced to be there by his grandfather. Robin forced a smile as the party came closer. The Old Bastard still looked hale and healthy. He was completely bald now, and his beard was thicker and as white as snow.

There was Uncle Kevan, Aunt Genna and some of the Lannisport branch.

"My Prince, we are honored to be here at your coming of age celebration." the Old Lion's deep voice silenced the whole courtyard. Robin merely tilted his head in acknowledgement.

The man got of his horse, as did the others. As one, they knelt before their future king, all but the Lannister Lord. Robin wasn't surprised, even if he did kneel once it wasn't guarantee he would do so again. Besides, everyone knew the prideful Old Lion never bowed to anyone. Not even to his father, or his even predecessor Aerys the Mad.

Robin merely raised an eyebrow at the party, if their Lord refused to show the proper respect then he will not receive any in return.

"Lord Tywin, I'm glad to see you and the family safe and healthy, may I introduce the Princess Myrcella?" he spoke, patting the girl in his arms on the cheek. The Princess said hello shyly before burying her face in the crook of his neck.

He could see many pursed lips and frowns, it appeared that many disapproved of the pair's manners.

"She takes after your mother I see, except for the coloring." Tywin nodded in return, not bothering with the little girl.

"Quite right Lord Tywin. Now the servants will show you and the family to their chambers My Lord, you will be summoned when the feast is ready to start. I'm afraid I have other guests to attend to." he said, not waiting for an answer, he walked pass the already scattering party and continued onward. The Prince and Princess found themselves greeting the Tyrell party who had just arrived.

Lord Tywin would no doubt be fuming after that show of disrespect. But Robin was the prince, _the_ Prince. Even if the man was his grandfather he was still a Lord, no matter how great a Lord he happened to be he still _was_ just a Lord. He felt a little sorry for not going to find his Uncle Tyrion or greeting the family but that could be taken of later.

Robin grinned to himself, the Lords of Westeros would be in for a rude awakening very soon. Robin had a plan, the great plan that would shake the world to it's core.

* * *

Jon Snow frowned as he was quickly ushered out of the main hall, where his father the Lord Stark could be seen and definitely heard arguing with the Lady Catleyn yet again.

Their topic of argument was the one thing the Northern couple disagreed on: The Bastard of Winterfell, Jon himself. Jon Snow the unwanted, Jon the Bastard. He wondered if the King's Bastard had to go through the same things Jon did.

Most probably not, his father ha told him that the Queen herself had armed Jason Waters with a sword and allowed him to train with her trueborn children. Lady Catelyn would most likely stab Jon in the gut with spear if she could.

Sighing to himself, Jon began walking aimlessly around Winterfell, ignoring the whispers that followed him like miasma. He was mostly used to them by now but he couldn't lie to himself and say that they didn't hurt.

Maybe he could go find Robb, his half-brother wouldn't say no to playing soldier and Robb was basically inseparable to him. The sulking boy kicked at the small rocks and pebbles as he went, not really looking as he went about. Suddenly, he heard a gasp and he suddenly found himself colliding with a small female form.

"Ouch..."

Jon was laying on top of the girl he smashed into, his own face deeply buried into the mud, grumbling, Jon pushed himself up and found himself looking into very blue and bright eyes.

"Sansa? aren't you suposed to have lessons?" Jon asked with a raised eyebrow, frowning when he got giggles in return.

"What? Something funny on my face?" Jon narrowed his eyes.

"Actually y-yes, now get off me if you please? My dress is already ruined, you're only making it worse." she half-scolded him, but even she couldn't keep the smile off her face, Jon looked like a right-idiot with all that mud on his face

"I'm feeling a little bit tired, mayhaps you could carry me to my feet my lady?" he joked, flicking a little bit of mud into Sansa's face. The girl gasped in surprised before her face contorted into a scowl.

"Jon!" she shouted, and kneed the poor 'bastard' in the balls. Poor Jon lost all control of his limbs and fell back down into his sister, groaning pitifully.

"I t-thought we'd a-agreed..you'd n-never do that..a-again." he wheezed.

"Well you shouldn't have been a mean...mean butt!" she said smacking the boy in the back of his head.

"Get off of Her!" a furious voice echoed through the small yard, Jon found himself roughly pushed off Sansa. Gasping in surprise, Jon looked up at the offender and shuddered at the pure hatred that Lady Catelyn was sending him.

"Wait! Mother!" Sansa protested weakly, but was easily ignored.

"Don't you ever touch my daughter again bastard!" she spat, glaring at the poor confused tween. Ignoring her young daughter's violent protests, Catelyn called for guards to sent Jon back to his room...with force.

"Mother stop!" Sansa screamed and ran towards her brother, who was already being dragged off and grabbed his hand. "Don't hurt him! He's my brother!"

"A bastard is what he is! Do not ever call him that in my presence Sansa! I wonder if he even has Targaryen blood in him, touching his own sister..." she spat spitefully.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!" a furious voice bellowed into area, stunning everyone into silence.

Lord Eddard Stark was usually very calm and composed, it took alot to get a rise out of him. Seeing his blood being treated like some common criminal by his own wife did it nicely.

The sounds of leather creaking could be heard from the Lord Stark's two fists and the guards holding Jon immediately set him down as gently as possible. Ser Rodrick Cassel, the master-at-arms quickly moved to get the guards to leave, not wanting Lord Stark's kind reputation to be destroyed by letting him get his hands on them.

"All of you, back to work!" he barked, causing the half-forming crowd to quickly disperse, they had never seen their Kindly Lord this angry and none wanted to test his quickly thinning patience.

"Sansa, get cleaned up, Ser Rodrick will take care of Jon. Quickly now." his grim voice softened a tiny bit at addressing his children.

"You will follow me into my solar, _**Wife**_." Catelyn flinched at the frosty tone and quickly made to follow.

"No worries there lad, the bruises will be gone by tomorrow." Ser Rodrick said.

Jon nodded and said no when the knight asked if he needed anymore assistance. Pitying the boy, Ser Rodrick ruffled his hair and told Jon to come to him for lessons anytime he wanted. He said it was to teach him how to fight properly like a northman, unlike all the prissy training that all the southerners had to go through.

Jon simply nodded and watched as the old knight left his chambers. Sitting the on the bed, the normally quiet boy broke out into sobs. He knew that his step-mother disliked him...but not to this extent.

The woman hated him simply for existing, what child could understand that logic? He remembered Sansa's forlorn expression as she dragged herself to the baths, he hated that look. He hated it whenever his siblings would look that way.

Jon loved his father and siblings but he absolutely hated it here. Was he going to be stuck here? Being nothing but a bastard who knew how to fight? Even the small-folk looked down on him and jeered when he passed by!

He needed to be someplace else...he needed to be at a place that didn't give two fucks about birth. Jon needed to leave.

Gritting his teeth, the boy promised himself that he would see his father and force the man to let him leave. They say that even a bastard can rise high on the wall...maybe he could go there? The wall was protected the Seven Kingdoms from the wildlings...among other threats. Being a black brother was prestigious.

Or he could even travel to Essos and be a Sell-Sword! He had heard stories of completely ordinary men becoming incredibly rich due to their martial strength alone.

Whatever it was, it didn't really matter. As long as it got him out.

* * *

 ** _To be Continued_**

A/N: WAAAAzAaap


	9. Chapter 9 - Before the Game III

**Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter still do not belong to me.**

 **25/02/2018 - Re-Written.**

 **I DID NOT PROOF READ AGAIN x3**

 **It appears that I have made a boo-boo, just remembered dat jon wus born during the end of rebellion. doesn't matter rhaegar and lyanna stark r still pricks, well crazy pricks anyways! looks like tyrion obviously isnt a targaryen, so that theory's gone. three headed dragon thing is now moot? i guess? unless viserion magically comes back to life.**

* * *

-9-

Robin swore to himself he would use an unforgivable curse on the next man that came to him for marriage offers. He almost kicked Mace Tyrell in the head when the man wouldn't stop pushing his daughter onto him.

But Margaery Tyrell _was_ breathtaking, one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen. All his brothers were absolutely smitten with her and everything she did. He knew those little perverts were disappointed that the girl was obviously meant for him. The Tyrells were quite intent on making her a queen, and they thought the easiest way was throwing her in his face every opportunity they got.

Robin personally didn't really care for marriages right now. Alliances or not, he wasn't going to get saddled with some high-born girl early on in life. Besides, he had two heirs in the form of his brothers, even if something were to happen to them then Jason could step up. There were also his two uncles Renly and Stannis, his line of succession was as strong as his father's.

Getting married and making babies weren't too high on his to-do list. Hell, he ever thought of adopting a random child from flea's bottom and naming the boy his heir just to fuck with everyone else. What a prank that would be, to see their dumb faces when they found out that the King after him would be low-born.

Beric Dondarrion was nice enough, and immensely respectful of him. The Storm-Lord spoke to him as if he was the Seven in human form. His voice always lathered with awe and reverence. Robin was thankful that his status as 'The Warrior Prince' was at least good for something, other than bring him more problems. The man arrived with some of his banner-men and one Edric Dayne, his seven-year old squire.

The boy was polite and shy, his hair was pale blond and he had blue eyes that seemed purple. If the weren't for his name then Robin was sure the boy was a Targaryen. And Speaking of his name..

The Daynes seemed.. conflicted? Allyria Dayne and her father Lord Ulric Dayne had a heart-warming reunion with their nephew and son, respectively. But their meeting with him was anything but. The Daynes were respectful enough, but the way they spoke to him was...guarded. Like they weighed every word, every sentenced before and after they were spoke. Their eyes were always moving, their hands twitched non-stop. They looked like they were expecting some kind of attack.

Robin had to physically prevent himself from 'taking-a-walk' inside their heads just to find out why.

"Clegane? aren't you supposed to be with Joffrey?" Robin questioned. He'd just exited his room and was about to make his way to the great throne room for the feast when he spotted the great big man lumbering about.

"Horpe's escorting your brother Prince Robin, I'm here for you." the man said, looking extra pissed this night.

"What crawled up your asshole and died?" Robin half-muttered as the two started walking. Robin held his crown in his hand, refusing to wear the thing until he absolutely had to. The young man was dressed in a nice, velvet doublet that reflected the colors of his house. The tight, form fitting top easily showcased his powerful body to the world.

Clegane remained silent, not really wanting to tell the Prince.

"Your brother's here isn't he? in King's Landing?" Robin needled, wanting to know. He always enjoyed a good old interrogation as opposed to the much easier legillimency.

"Yes." was the only thing the Hound grunted in return.

"Well don't worry, I'll make sure the giant cunt won't do anything stupid, or I'll let you have his head." Robin stated. The two of them kept walking slowly, the various servants in the castle bowed and greeted them as they passed.

The Hound remained silent the rest of the way.

The place was filled to the brim with food, wine and nobles. The Royal family was seated up high at the table, with the Crown Prince in the middle of it all. His father sat on his right and his mother on the left. His royal siblings were too there with him. Renly and Stannis were there as well, with the Lady Selyse and her daughter Shireen.

There were many laughter and shouts of happiness as the high-born gorged themselves on the expensive food and drank themselves half to death.

Jon Arryn stepped up the to the high table with his squire Hugh and another page struggling to drag a large chest. Robin's interest piqued a little, the thing was clearly heavy since two men were blowing their asses out just dragging it.

"Prince Robert! I am honored to gift you this fine piece of work from our very own blacksmiths hear in King's Landing! It is not meant to be wielded by a man but may it's splendor forever remind you of your House's strength and ferocity in the field of battle!" the man said, raising his voice so the whole hall heard it.

The music slowly died down, and everyone's attention was on the Prince as he leaped over the table like a cat, eliciting many gasps from the ladies of the court. Robin nodded for the chest to be opened, what he found inside was quite surprising.

He never thought war-hammers could be made to be so...graceful. In an astonishing show of strength, Robin gripped the leather covered shaft with a single hand and lifted the thing with a small grunt.

The hammer head was bigger than his own. There was a beautifully carved Baratheon sigil on the side of it. The back of the head was covered in vicious spikes that protruded a few inches and there were a few rubies encrusted into the metal.

Robin gave the thing a small test, swinging it behind his head, twirling quickly and spinning it behind his back and switching hands before hefting the thing on his shoulder. The Prince quite enjoyed the flabbergasted reactions from the small show. Jon Arryn looked like a boy-whore ready to swallow a cock, his mouth opened so big his jaw almost reached the floor. His two men were imitating him quite nicely.

His siblings had stars in their eyes. They looked like the cutest things in the world, cheering happily while the throne room was engulfed in awed silence.

His parents looked disturbed but otherwise proud of him. Robin turned his head, finding his uncle Tyrion in the crowd and gave him a wink. The dwarf raised a glass of wine in his honor and drank it empty.

"A beautiful gift, my Lord Hand, I will treasure it for all time!" Robin thanked him, putting an end to the near suffocating silence that had taken hold.

"But this does not belong in the armory, nor my chambers! This is the weapon of which my father used to bring down the Targaryen Dynasty! The weapon that was used to crush the Tyrant King along with his Treacherous son!" he shouted, the prince's loud voice carried easily, making sure everyone heard him.

"I will follow into my King Father's footsteps, I shall wield this hammer with my heart and soul! I will defend my peoples with it! May all those who dare threaten the peace that was brought to us by King Robert be crushed by this very weapon in my hands! This I swear!" he roared in tandem with the crowd's thunderous cheers. Everyone stood and cheered for him, moved by the amazing speech...and the wide-spread cheering charm he cast an hour ago.

What? He didn't want any trouble and if the nobles were happy that meant they weren't making any trouble.

"Resume the Feast!" he commanded and handed the weapon back to squires to be brought into his room. Robin jumped back into his seat, where his father patted him on the back and his mother kissed him on the cheek, both telling him how proud they were of him.

On and one they came, gifting his jewels, swords and daggers. There was a cask of wine from the Arbor, brought to him by Paxter Redwyne. He received the best bred horse and falcon from the Tyrells, armor of the highest quality that gold could buy from the Lannisters, and many more expensive gifts from the Tullys, even the Martells. The Starks had sent an envoy, with apologies from Lord Stark that they couldn't make it due to an emergency.

Robin's favorite gift however, was the great ship that House Harlaw, the Lords Paramount of the Iron Islands, had built for him, which was already docked. His very own flagship, it made Robin giddy at the thought of being a captain on his very own vessel. He already knew what he was going to name her.

The man looked very smug at being the 'winner' of the competition. Robin could hear him brag loudly, non-stop to everyone who heard.

Deciding to mingle with the folk, Robin excused himself from his parents, who were busy talking. He thanked his uncle and the Lord-commander and ordered them to stay behind.

"Uncle! I could spot your big fat head from over the narrow sea!" He roared in laughter at his own joke, slapping his own knee as he came up to the dwarf of Casterly Rock, who was busy drinking with his other Uncle Renly.

"Why are you laughing Renly? I was talking about you!" the men around laughed uproariously as Renly threw a piece of chicken at him, grumbling all the while.

"Ah my lovely fucking Uncles! What say we have a competition! Uncle Stannis! Over Here!" Robin roared, catching the man's attention from all over the other side of the hall. He looked to be in deep discussion with Jon Arryn. The Hand patted Stannis on the shoulder as the man excused himself and made his way quickly towards his nephew.

"What is it Robert?" Stannis asked. Robin grimaced for a moment at his Uncle. The man always insisted on calling him by his full name, refusing to change it to avoid confusion. For five years Robin tried convincing the Master of Ships and for five years the man had refused.

"We're having a competition! But we're not all here yet! WATERS! OVER HERE! NOW!" Robin shouted, scaring the poor boy into sprinting.

"All right! It's my birthday so I get to do whatever the fuck I want! And we're having a drinking game! Tyrells! Both of you! Bring the little brother as well! LANCEL GET YOUR ARSE OVER HERE!"

A few moments later, everyone sat together in back of the hall near the servants and were laughing and joking. Even Stannis cracked a fucking smile here and then. Robin smiled at the gathered men wine in hand. Looking at the high table, he spotted his Uncle Jaime and briefly thought about inviting the man over. He was about to call for him when the man leaned forwards to speak to his mother.

"Next time I guess." he muttered before turning to the gathered group.

"All right! Simple is simple! One tells a story and then we all guess if it's fake or real! Loser drinks! The last one standing gets three-hundred dragons and the first one that falls kisses the mountain!"

On and on they played until the wee hours of morning.

Poor Lancel Lannister was begging not to kiss the mountain by the end of it and the Red Robin was three-hundred dragons richer. All and all it was a happy celebration, well except for the King, who threw a tantrum when he found out he'd been excluded.

* * *

"... -and somebody turn off the fucking sun!" roared a very irritated voice from the Prince's room. A poor serving-girl came running out of the chambers, sobbing and scared.

The next day was very painful for most of the drunkards nursing their headaches. Servants had to tip-toe so as to not wake the sleeping nobles stranded all over the place. Robin grabbed the glass of water near the dresser beside his bed, thankful for liquid. He promised himself to apologize to the girl later. Grumbling, the prince stepped into the drawn bath and quickly washed himself. He didn't understand his father's logic. Who the fuck would place a tourney right after a night of feasting and drinking?

Quickly getting dressed, the Prince made his way to the training yards to get in a bit of morning practice before the formalities started. On his way there he met someone quite interesting. One Lord Varys the Spider.

"I'm afraid I am no Lord my Prince. People merely call me Lord out of respect." the man's soft, high-pitched silky tones always freaked him out a little. It reminded him of Voldermort for some reason. That snake always had a charming voice, like he could convince you to jump off a cliff with a smile.

"Walk with me." Robin commanded.

"It appears that the Targaryens across the Narrow Sea almost made contact with...the Griffins a few days back." the man reported.

It was a funny thing, at one point in time the Spymaster wanted the Prince dead at his feet. Robin didn't think someone could hate magic _that_ much but after a foiled assassination attempt, and an interrogation session that left the man three fingers lesser he finally found out why.

Varys had been kidnapped as a child, had his dick cut off and was subjected to a failed dark ritual. Robin was sure that story meant to scare him somehow into abandoning the use of magic. Robin wanted to laugh, such a thing could never frighten him.

He was, after all 'Lord Potter the Damned' in his previous life, and he did not gain it by prancing around spreading love to his enemies. Robin snorted in derision, so what if Inferi were illegal? It was a fucking war and he did what needed to be done. He couldn't believe the 'Light Side' expected him to play nice with stunners. Psh.

A few memory walks revealed webs of lies and deceit, of plans and plans that were supposed to help 'better the realm'. Robin almost executed the eunuch himself, but decided to keep him in employ. It was a very simple endeavor. All he had to do was be honest, the most honest he had been since he'd been born into this world.

He told the man almost everything, his plans, the way he would go about it, the why's and the how's. By the end of it he had a completely loyal spy who also happened to be best in the world. But he wasn't about to let the man go around with all his secrets of course, a few spells had taken care of that.

He couldn't believe it was that simple really, Robin thought that finally all the crap the universe had given him was finally turning around and now he was blessed with good luck. Well, it was the only explanation he could come up with.

"You've diverted their paths from each other? Good.. it is not yet time for the Young Griff to meet with his...extended family. Keep an eye out will you? There's too many Lords here, who knows what their little minds could cook up together."

The Eunuch bowed and quickly disappeared just as Robin reached the training yard.

"I wish Jenny was here to make some treacle tarts.."

* * *

"Would you care for a spar dear brother?" Jason called from the sides. The boy was busy sorting out tourney blades the squires used for practice.

'Well somebody's feeling a little brave today, too much wine perhaps?' Robin thought to himself as he waved the boy over.

"Where's Joffrey? He told me last night he would be here, if only to prove he's better than you." Robin asked, cracking his neck.

"I haven't seen him, perhaps he's with the ladies sewing nightclothes?" Jason snorted, rubbing the back of his ear. The boy clearly didn't want to talk about his other half-brother. Robin smacked the boy in the back of the head.

"Don't talk about your brother like that, and pick a weapon for yourself, I'm going to speak to the Ser Garlan and Loras over there." Robin told him and quickly made his way towards the two. They looked like they already built up quite the sweat.

"Prince Robin! Surprised to see you up so early your grace, I think you alone drank three whole barrels!" Garlan chuckled, eliciting a smile from Robin.

"Well well, you two are up early. How about a sparring session? The competition gets a little stale in the Red Keep you know, it's always the same people over and over." Robin complained, taking his outer wear off.

"Even with the likes of Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan?" Loras asked, an eyebrow raised. Robin sighed, he quite liked Loras but the boy could be quite a prat sometimes.

" _Especially_ those two." he replied with a hint of steel. The Prince started stretching just as his bastard brother came running with a sword in hand.

"Come here Jason, you remember Loras and Ser Garlan?" Jason bowed at the two young lords, who nodded back in return. The Bastard of the Red Keep, even with his status still enjoyed a certain amount of respect from the high-born. Perks of being the King's bastard.

"Ser Garlan has agreed to spar with you in single combat. I think it would do well for you to see how a Knight of the Reach does battle, wouldn't you say friends?" Robin asked the other two.

Garlan looked surprised but agreed nonetheless, his brother looked disappointed that he wouldn't fight the Prince but nodded dutifully.

The combatants stood together in a circle and started hacking each other at Robin's command. Robin was proud to see his brother doing well against an annointed Knight. Hearing a couple footsteps to the side, Robin was surprised to see Willas Tyrell with his sister and grandmother in tow.

"You're up early my prince?" Willas exclaimed in surprise.

"That's why they said -" he paused to point at the other two Tyrells. "Ah where are my manners, a pleasure once again Lady Ollena." he greeted, kissing the given hand and moved to Margaery, doing the same.

"Quite early in the morning isn't it? To be beating each other senseless?" and there it was, the Queen of Thorns sharp tongue strikes again. Robin laughed out loud, the sound of it eliciting a squeak from the Lady Margaery. He quite enjoyed Ollena's presence, the old woman was like a breath of fresh air, she reminded him of Sirius Black, he beloved godfather in the previous life.

"It is never to early or late to be beating each other senseless my lady. I myself quite enjoy smacking my fellow Nobles, I think it gives them a sense of vulnerability. Something which they seem to be lacking all the time." Robin answered, half turning to keep an eye on the ongoing match.

Jason was sporting a few bruises but he was still going strong.

"Interesting..I see you must have quite the talent for...beating nobles was it? I don't think even your father was that strong, that hammer of yours must be twice as big as the King's own." she half-praised him. Robin smirked at the backhanded compliment.

"Will you be joining the tourney your grace?" Margaery asked, not making eye contact with him. The girl was wearing clothes that no girl her age should. Robin could see the hints of make-up applied to bring out her natural beauty. Her brown curls were tied up today in a simple high pony-tail. He enjoyed the view for a moment before answering.

"It would be improper, as my mother would say. Instead I have picked a champion to represent myself, one for the joust, one for the archery competition and one for the melee." Robin answered, smiling kindly at the now blushing girl.

"Might you let us know as to whom shall have the chance? My brothers would be happy to fight in your honor your grace." Willas interjected smoothly, much to his grandmother's approval.

"I'm afraid that choice has already been made. Might I present my champion for the melee?" Robin replied, waving grandly at the sparring circle.

Loras had his mouth gaping like an idiot, staring at the impossibility before him.

"Jason Waters will do me proud." Robin announced, voice full of pride and love for his brother. His brother who was currently standing above a surprised Garlan Tyrell, the Knight's sword was on the ground a few feet away.

Amazing what an introduction of magic could do to one's body. Just a small zap and already his brother was already thrice the warrior.

Jason would be the first out of a Thousand. The Grandmaster of the Elite Knighly Order. His own personal magic-infused corps that would devastate any battlefield he dropped them into:

 ** _The Order of The Phoenix._**

* * *

 **A/N: Tourney's next chapter, with the promised targaryen povs, after that our dear mc is off fucking around in the seven kingdoms. Anyway i heard it was confirmed that got is going to air late 2018 or early 19. fucking hellll. although theres going to be 'sucessor shows or prequels' follwing got. What would you guys like to see?**

 **I WANT ROBERT'S REBELLION AND AEGON'S CONQUESSSSSSSSSSSSSST.**

 **anyways guys, i really wnted yung griff to be on the show. shame they scrapped him. just can't wait for jon's reaction to finding out he fucked his auntie. I know dany won't have a problem since she wus raised believing she would fuck viseryrs.**

 **but imagine Jon 'I AM HONOR' Snow's reaction tho. its gon be hilarious.**

 **again, i know that i made a mistake but, seriously Kit Harington's face and the name Aegon Targaryen together is just...not right. i've been fine if they named him Aemon, or Duncan or fuk it even jack targaryen. EVEN RHAEGAR JR. or just jon targaryen really.**

 _ **SHORT HIATUS AFTER THIS CHAPTER SEE YOU ALL SOON SORRY LOVE U BYE**_


	10. Chapter 10 - The Prince's Tourney

**Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter still do not belong to me.**

 **I DID NOT PROOF READ X4**

 **26/02/2016 - Re-Written**

* * *

-10-

It was a beautiful day, the sun was clouded, letting a few precious rays through. The birds were chirping and the wind was strong. All in all Robin expected it to be a nice good ol tournament where his champions would crush the other peasants beneath their feet like a bunch pathetically small flightless bugs.

Smiling warmly at the gathered crowd before him, Robin took a deep breath and let it out. Finally he could breathe properly without the smell of shit invading his nostrils. His father was there in the King's seat, strong as ever with a cup of wine in hand. His mother, the Queen ever so beautiful, her hair shined like the sun, making up for the one that was blocked from view by the fat clouds above.

His sweet sister, in the bench with his beautiful brother Tommen. Myrcella was wearing a cute frilly dress in the House Baratheon colors. Her hair was tied up in an elaborate braid with a big yellow bow in it, a beautifully crafted Tiara sat on her crown, she looked perfect today. Tommen looked handsome in his red and yellow doublet, his green eyes shined with excitement at the prospect of the coming tourney. His blond hair was slicked back and a golden circlet with a single large ruby encrusted in the middle. He was a true Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

Joffrey was the spitting image of Uncle Jaime, he was basically the Kingslayer in a younger form. Joffrey opted to follow in his elder brother's footsteps and dressed in the Baratheon colors. The designer originally had orders to dress Joff in Lannister colours to represent his mother's house but the boy threw a great tantrum and made a big deal of it, saying that he would not betray his own Royal House. The Crown Prince's heir looked magnificent today, even if the color of his clothes mashed horribly with his person. Joff had a giant crown placed on his head, with numerous jewels encrusted, it was designed beautifully by the blacksmiths. There were carefully crafted stags all running towards the center of the crown where two of them locked horns with one another, with one big fat emerald on top of it.

Prince Robin himself, compared to the other members of the Royal family was quite under dressed. He'd refuse to wear his crown yet again, shooting a dirty look at Jon Arryn when the old man tried putting it on his head. The Old man was insistent though and sent Sandor Clegane, (who was now Joff's official sworn sword) to put it on him. Even the Hound almost pissed his pants when the Stormbringer's eyes flashed green and he growled like the Black Dread itself.

Robin had met with all the other lords, making nice with them and making a good impression. He scanned a few, suspicious looking Lords but most of them were harmless, they only had thoughts of alliances, wine and whores. Robin had heard that the Red Viper, Prince Oberyn of Dorne had arrived this morning, with his daughters and apparent paramour in tow. He'd asked Barristan to remind him to visit the man. Dorne after his father's rebellion were trouble and he wanted to quench it quickly before the fires of rebellion blazed during his father's reign.

Jason was somewhere in the camp with his mentor Ser Barristan. The Queen had told the boy in front of the family that he would receive no help and no favor from the family this day. He was to win nonetheless so as to not disappoint and dishonor his brother and the Queen herself. His mother told his bastard brother that it was an opportunity, that it was his time to show that even Bastards of the Royal family were better than all them. That even the lowest of the was untouchable.

Robin saw right through the plot, granted, there wasn't any real effort to hide it. The Queen wanted to increase the Royal Family's prestige and fame. To rise them up an even higher level of standing within the world. Robin didn't see any harm in it, as long as nothing happened to Jason then he would make no move to impede her efforts.

Poor Jason ate it all up, the prospect of bringing honor to his Queen and Crown Prince would spur the boy on to try his very best, or die trying. Robin was happy for the boy, he knew that bastards here were viewed as nothing but a curse and a burden. It was his hope that Jason would change that, the Queen's champion would erase the black-mark on bastardry placed by the Blackfyres and show the world that the children from unmarried noble parents were innocent and good.

Robin was also pleased to see that relations within the family had improved over the past moons. Myrcella and Tommen were closer to their Bastard brother and Jason could now look in his parent's eyes without flinching.

It was the bond of hatred stewing between Joff and him that worried Robin. He knew that they didn't like each other that much but only now could he see the true extent of their feelings. It was heartbreaking to see his beloved brothers sharing such hate with one another. Joff was jealous of Jason for his talent with weapons, his classic Baratheon looks and his preconceived notion that Robin loved Jason more because of it.

Jason on the other hand hated Joff because he was true-born and bored the name Baratheon, something which he could never have. It was ridiculous and stupid, since there were two other males of the family that bored the same name. But Jason's hatred was irrational as well, mostly because he tried to make nice with Joff and only received derision and insults in return.

"-bin? Prince Robert!" the call shook Robin out of his muse, turning around he threw a questioning look at the Herald, who was trying to announce the arrival of his grandfather.

"Go on Alf, do your job." Robin smiled warmly, calming the restless man.

"Here for an audience with the Royal Prince Robert, Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Shield of Lannisport!" the man announced perfectly, not stopping for a quick breath.

Robin remained seated as the regal lord came up the steps to greet him. Myrcella, ever the innocent little girl stood up and curtsied perfectly for her Grandfather, greeting him perfectly like a princess. Queen Cersei looked on proudly at her only daughter before greeting her father as well, she too, and his father remained seated. King Robert grunted out a rude but nonetheless proper greeting for the Lion Lord.

Joffrey and Tommen bowed perfectly, shaking hands with the Lannister Lord before going back to their seats, politely looking away as Tywin came up to Robin, who was _still_ seated, legs crossed. The Prince graced the Lord with a mere nod and waved at the man, prompting him to start the conversation. After all it was he who requested an audience. King Robert and Queen Cersei looked on, preferring not to say anything.

The two of them had slowly given Robin more and more power in regards to making his own decisions for the realm, and would not interfere with anything he did as long as it did not harm the Seven Kingdoms or clashed directly with their own plans.

"I hoped you found the armor I had crafted fitting, and useful." Robin always liked it when his Grandfather opened his mouth to speak. The man would always pick the right words for his sentences and would speak in it rhymes that comforted the listening ear.

"It was, Lord Tywin. Very comfortable too, I cannot wait to wear it, I'll make good use of the thing." Robin answered politely with an incline of his head.

"I will endeavor to not waste anymore of your precious time Prince Robin, and skip to the reason why I am here." Tywin continued, the man paused to look at his mother before looking back to him.

"I hear that you are refusing to foster at any Lord's Castle and will be touring the Seven Kingdoms?"

"Correct, Lord Tywin." he answered patiently.

"Good, I would like to request that you take some of my Lord's heirs with you, along with your cousin Lancel. Some time away from the comforts of their own castle should do them well, what better way than to tour with the Prince himself?" he proposed. Robin pretended to think for a few moment, letting the Lord stew for a few while.

"Send them to me, I'll take a look at them, I promise Lancel's place in the party but the other's will have to prove themselves, is this acceptable?" he asked. Both of them knew it was complete farce and that if he really didn't want to he would just refuse. Tywin agreed, thanking him once again.

As the Lord turned to leave, Robin quickly turned to his parents, mouthing a few words and when they nodded, with some reluctance on his father's part. Robin called the Lord back, who stopped mid-step and turned around.

"Originally the Crown was to appoint Lord Renly the Master of Laws but I made some... disagreements to that choice. Lord Renly would be better off someplace else, the Stormlands would be preferable but my dear Uncle is quite stubborn about travelling to Highgarden after this it seems." Robin said, staring into the man's eyes, trying to find out what he was thinking without the use of mind magics. It was a challenging but a fun, personal game for him.

"What are you trying to say Prince Robin?" the Lord asked, eyebrow raised.

"You or Uncle Kevan will do Grandfather, I suggest you choose quickly before the Crown receives...better offers." he said, mentally congratulating himself when his Grandfather's usual stoic facade cracked.

"Thank you for the opportunity, I will inform you of my choice as soon as I can, my Prince. Your Graces." he said and bowed, quickly exiting the Royal stands.

"I hope you made the right choice boy." King Robert grumbled, sipping on his wine bit by bit.

"Robin made the right decision, my father's presence in the capital will reduce plots tenfold and keep the others in check. I have no doubt that he would serve us faithfully my dear." his mother said, defending both her father, her sons's decision and calming her husband down.

"Thank you mother, father for letting me do this." Robin said smiling warmly at his beloved parents. The two smiled back at him, looking proud.

"Let's start the damn tourney shall we!? Alf! Blow the damn horn before I piss meself!" the King roared, laughing at the Queen's complaints for his improper language.

The Herald nodded and signaled his compatriots before all of them blew together. The incredibly loud noise mixed together blew outwards and into the gathered crowed, silencing everyone.

Jon Arryn quickly stood up from his place beside the Royal Family to address the crowd.

"We are all gathered here in honor of our beloved Crown Prince Robert! On this day we celebrate the boy who is to become a man! We are here to celebrate his accomplishments and services to the Seven Kingdoms! Glory to the Prince! Glory to he who slew scores of Ironborn, it was the Prince who took control of Casterly Rock and beat back the defenders! He was fearless in the face of war and blood!To Prince Robert the Warrior! We are all thankful for his efforts in protecting the Kingdom, For the Prince! To the Prince!"

"TO THE PRINCE!" the crowd echoed.

"Let the tourney begin!" the Hand shouted as the crowd broke into cheers and claps.

"Excuse me, I have to go to the privy." Joff suddenly said, after his parents gave their permission the boy quickly exited the stands, but not before sharing a secret smile with his brother.

First was the archery competition. King Robert initially wanted to award the winner twenty-thousand gold dragons. But when his son stared at him like an idiot for a full five minutes he thought maybe that wasn't such a good idea and reduced it to two thousand and a brand new expensive bow.

Competition was fierce, many were quickly revealed to be mere pretenders who thought they had a chance to win if they just...well, just shot. The Nobles had more winners from their pool than the Knights. Robin wasn't surprised, after all the prissy high-born weren't big on getting dirty and shooting an arrow from a hundred yards away into a bullseye did nicely for their pride.

Edmure Tully did hilariously bad, managing to shoot the arrow into a squire's foot _behind_ him. His bannermen shook their head in embarrassment and the whole party tried to make themselves look smaller.

Gevin Harlaw proved himself a good shot when he made it to the semi-finals. There was a low-born archer as well who made it as well, a man who called himself Anguy. He had a peculiar technique that allowed him to strike every true every single time. The King had allowed three Kingsguard to participate in the competitions, and had let the men to decide who would participate between themselves.

Balon Swann volunteered to participate in the Archery Tournament in the Princess Myrcella's honor. It wasn't surprising, Ser Balon was Mycella's favorite 'White man' and the Kingsguard was quite fond of the little girl. It didn't surprise Robin that the man entered the Semi-finals, he'd seen the man shoot before and by the gods could he shoot.

The last semi-finalist however brought lots of gasps and shouts when he stepped up to the competition. King Robert never looked so proud of him, and Queen Cersei was brought to tears when one Joffrey Baratheon made it through. Robin wanted to jump down and hug and kiss the little shit when he threw Robin a wink from his place down there.

Joff hated Jason with a passion, and used that passion as motivation to train every night when he thought no one knew and shoot the bow that Robin gave him when he was a child over and over again until his fingers bleed.

Robin knew his brother had it in him to be up there with the likes of Brynden Bloodraven and Robb Rivers. After all where was it said that every Baratheon had to be a great warrior? Joffrey was special, he would be the greatest Baratheon archer in history. _The_ Baratheon archer.

Cersei held her husband's hand dabbing at her tears and Robert smiled a true smile in a long while. The man was happy to finally see some of that Storm's Blood in his second son finally rearing it's head. Robin went to Join Myrcella and Tommen on their bench, the two looked incredibly excited to see Joff standing with the rest of the men.

When the Semi-Finals finally started, the Prince opted to go first, still riding on his high after winning a series of matches. The boy hefted his bow, specially made for his size and drew and arrow, pulling as hard as he could for maximum draw, he hands were shaking as he let the arrow fly. The crowd waited in bated breath to see how he'd do.

The arrow flew straight, but only for three-quarters of the distance it was supposed to make before landing pathetically into the ground, with the target still twenty yards away. The crowd weren't sure what to do, they hand't expect such a poor show. But the more intelligent understood why, the wind, the pressure of the competition had played a part in his sup-par showing, but the true reason was his age.

No matter how good a shot he was the boy was still one and ten. His body was simply not strong enough to shoot an arrow eighty yards away. All the previous matches had targets much, much closer to the archer and Joff had no trouble then. Joff stood silent, staring at his arrow in betrayal as the crowd kept silent. It was almost suffocating. Just as Joff looked to be close to a nervous breakdown when King Robert jumped out of his seat and roared, clapping and cheering for his son for the first time in the boy's life.

The crowd immediately followed, shouting out their congratulations to the Prince. Ser Balon came forward and clasped the boy on the shoulder, squeezing it in an act of comfort. But it appeared that the Prince had eyes for no one but his father, the boy wiped the tears that spilled with his sleeves and waved back at his father and mother who'd came to join her husband.

It was a good experience for Joff, the boy wouldn't stop talking once he got back. The King and Queen were more than happy to entertain him while the competition continued on.

Ser Balon, Gevin Harlaw and Anguy shot arrows continuously until Ser Balon missed the bullseye at two hundred and sixty yards. Gevin Harlaw missed at two hundred seventy which left Anguy the winner. The man was obviously eating up the praise and cheers and proceeded to shoot a record three hundred yards, _still_ hitting the bulleye.

Robin got up from his seat to announce the winner and give him his award. After presenting the man with his brand new warbow and a small chest for his gold the archer quickly thanked the Prince, the King and Queen and walked away. But Robin was quite impressed by the spectacle and wasn't done.

"Congratulations to the winner! Your arrows will leave me impressed for a long time my friend! I do not think I have ever seen such skill with a bow! I hereby dub thee: Anguy the Archer and offer you place in my party should you choose it! To the Archer!" he shouted, the crowd echoed and cheered once more for the winner.

The man in questioned merely nodded at him with wide eyes and almost went running, carrying the small chest in his arms.

Jason Waters gripped his sword so tightly he thought it was going to break in half. He was very scared, and nervous. It didn't matter what Ser Barristan said, he wasn't sure if he would do well in the upcoming melee. He'd heard about how Joff the prat had managed to make it all the way to the semi-finals and he didn't want to lose to him, he didn't want to disappoint the family, especially his brother.

"Nervous boy?" a deep voice that scared him into waving his sword wildly. "Calm down now, it's not yet time to be killing anyone just yet." Jason gasped in horror and quickly bowed, muttering apologies at the amused man.

"A-apologies Lord Donddarion! I-I was nervous and-" he stammered.

"Quite alright child, I see you're already prepared. I do hope you'll swing much harder when the competition starts eh? and a word of advice, stay away from the hound, the kingsguard and Thoros. Those three mean business, you'd do well to swing at much smaller fish." Lord Beric chuckled, patting Jason's head before walking away, into his own tent.

Grumbling at being treated like a child, Jason quickly checked himself to make sure he had everything ready. Taking a deep breath, he started walking, trying to find his brother when he accidentally bumped into a girl.

"S-sorry! I didn't see you!" he apologized again at the girl. His immediate reaction was that she was one of the most prettiest girls he'd ever seen. And that she looked like she wanted to run him through with his own sword.

"Are you blind! I was clearly walking in front of you! hmph!" she huffed, crossing her hands and glaring at him. The girl was half-ahead shorter than him and wore clothes more befitting of a boy. Her dark hair was tied into a simple braid that left it hanging over her shoulders just above her chest. She had dark, olive skin and a cute button face. She also...

"Gods why do you smell like a horse!?" Jason gagged visibly, trying to cover his nose. He knew he'd screwed up when the girl turned a funny shade of red, like Joffrey did when Jason reached out to slap him in the back of the head then pretended nothing happened.

"W-what! I..I-I'll Kill you! Get over here!" she screamed and gave chase when Jason turned tail and ran. The poor boy was genuinely scared for his life and zig-zagged around the tents, bumping into people every now and then. After quite some time, Jason craned his neck to see if the girl had stopped but was scared shitless to see she was still going strong _and_ had somehow picked up a dagger along the way.

Not looking where he was going, Jason gave a loud 'oopmh!' as he banged into another person.

He heard the girl pause in her footsteps before she gave a shout and started running again. In his panic, Jason quickly jumped towards the man, gripping his sleeves.

"Quick! Hide me! The devil herself is chasing me!" he shouted, a wild look in his eyes. The man, who looked to be in his forties looked incredibly amused and trying his hardest to keep himself from laughing. Jason kept begging the man, who was obviously Dornish into hiding him when the girl's voice was heard again.

"Papa! This boy called me an ugly horse!" the girl shouted, pouting and stomping her feet. Jason almost thought she was going to throw that dagger in his face when her sentence finally registered in his head.

"Hey I didn't call you ugly! I said you smell like a horse and only because you do smell like one!" Jason shouted back waving his hand at the girl, trying to convince the man she called papa that he didn't to anything bad. Now clearly taking the man in, Jason was surprised to see the Martell family crest on the breast of his robes. The man shared the same eyes with his daughter, he looked young but the widow's peak proved otherwise.

"Elia, what did I tell you about chasing boys? I thought we agreed that you'd be older when you started?" the man joked, smirking at the two children who were now red in the face, quickly catching his meaning.

"Papa you must punish this boy!" the girl pouted and went to hug her father glaring at Jason all the while. The man shushed her, before turning to address Jason.

"I'm afraid my daughter feels offended by your statement boy, even if it's true that's no such thing to say to a lady wouldn't you agree?" the man chastised gently, rubbing his daughter's head when she complained.

"I-I that's true. My brother always says to respect all women. I'm sorry Lady Elia I did not mean to offend you.." he muttered, looking down at his feet feeling guilty about hurting the girl's feelings.

"Hmph! I accept your apology my lord." she said reluctantly, only doing so when her father prompted her.

"W-what? I'm no lord! I'm just a bastard!" Jason exclaimed in surprise, that was the first time in his live someone addressed him as Lord, even if it was by accident. The man laughed out loud, the girl following him with small giggles.

"Well I'm a bastard too! My name is Elia Sand! This is my father Prince Oberyn!" the girl said happily, her mood suddenly doing a one-eighty on Jason who was flabbergasted to be in the man's presence, and also terrified that he'd insulted the man's daughter.

"I'm sorry m'lord I didn't mean to.." he started but the man merely had a hand up, a relaxed smile on his face.

"No need for apologies boy, your name?" he questioned.

"J-jason Waters Prince Oberyn, King Robert's son.." he stammered, jumping slightly when the man's gaze suddenly intensified, losing that relaxed smile. His eyes narrowed slowly as he took the boy in, observing every pore. Jason almost pissed his pants.

"I see the resemblance...well good luck in the tourney boy. I do hope you survive, and make sure you listen to your brother's lesson, he sounds like has a good head on those shoulders. Elia say good bye, your mother's looking for you, we have to go now." he said, eyes still inspecting Jason closely.

The girl Elia muttered a good-bye and proceeded to leave with her father. Jason watched her go with wide eyes, still taking it what happened just then. His eyebrow raised in surprise when Elia suddenly ripped a strand of cloth from her blouse and ran towards him. The girl didn't say anything but take his hand and wrapped the piece around his arm. Oberyn looked on in understanding, he was also quite shocked at her daughter's actions.

"Bastards need to stick together." she whispered into his ear before planting a wet kiss onto his cheek, making the both of them redden. Elia kissed him on impulse and didn't look like she regretted it one bit.

"You better win or I'll kick your butt!" she shouted as she ran back to her father, who nodded at him once before leaving with his daughter.

"uhh..what?" he said out loud, still confused.

The words 'uhhh..what?' was spoken once more by the time the horn for the melee sounded. Jason, being one and two and still have yet to reach puberty was hilariously short compared to the other fighters. His vision was flooded with black and steel as the men screamed and hacked into each other. But while the height difference gave him and overwhelming disadvantage, it also gave him an opportunity.

Jason knew that Baratheons were strong, very strong in fact. He'd seen his father's war-hammer once, when the man showed it to him. Jason was surprised to find that he had to exert a tremendous amount of force just to move the thing an inch. It was said that his father could wield it with one hand atop a horse, which was how he killed Prince Rhaegar during the war.

His brother's hammer was almost twice the size and he could swing and twirl the thing like it weighed a feather. Jason always admired their strength, and couldn't wait to reach the same level of power when he matured. His brother had him go through grueling drills this past few moons which was 'designed' to maximized his 'muscle growth'. Jason didn't understand a lick of it but he could feel it doing it's job. He was incredibly powerful for his age, and fast as well. It was almost unnatural how fast his strength was growing. Before, he couldn't even touch the Hound, now he was confident he could fight the man to a stalemate, or even win.

But he chose not to, at least not yet. The boy decided to follow Lord Beric's advice and cut through the other contenders. His short height, combined with his massive swings easily brought down unsuspecting fighter who couldn't even see him coming.

He went for the legs, going fending off random blades and cutting every piece of flesh he saw. The numbers slowly dwindled down and Jason could finally see something other than limbs. He regretted wearing plate armor, the heat was unbearable. He was bathing in his own sweat right now, and his eyes were stinging. Looking around the pit, Jason could see eight other men still standing. Most of the fighters had already yielded, two unfortunately lose their lives, their blood caked the ground in a unnerving color of red and brown.

His eyes widened when he spotted a portly red-headed man laughing and swinging a sword of fire. It was a metaphor either, the blade was literally in flames, it's fire so hot the man it was swinging against couldn't even get in close. Jason wondered for a moment if the man had magical powers or if he just lit the damn thing with oil and flame.

Hearing loud thumping footsteps from behind him, Jason quickly ducked as a blade missed his head by a few inches. Turning around, eyes wide, Robin faced none other than the Hound himself, Sandor Clegane.

"You almost killed me!" Robin shouted, his blue eyes widened in anger.

"That was the idea!" the man replied and swung his sword once more, the blade cut through the wind, creating whistling sound where it met the bastard's own in the middle, creating a loud clang that brought most of the crowd's attention onto them.

It was a funny thing, if it weren't true. The boy barely reached his chest and was thrice as small as he was, and yet they were evenly matched in a contest of strength. Although the stalemate lasted for only a few more seconds before the Hound got the upper hand, his experience doing it's job. Clegane shifted his stance, forcing Jason to stumble due to the sudden weight change.

The Hound quickly took advantage and swung again, cutting through the boy's measly defenses and managing to land a small cut on the cheek. Jason screamed in pain and frustration, swinging his sword wildly in response, missing every single time. The man was fast despite his large size and he dodged every swing easily, only needing to parry a few strikes.

He could feel his arms getting heavier, it was getting harder to breathe and he could feel his skin sizzling under the heat of the sun. When it got to much he paused for a moment to replenish his energy, but it was a stupid mistake.

The Hound grinned viciously and was already in the middle of his attack by then. Jason cursed himself for being so stuipd, his brother would kill him for this. Just as the blade almost made contact, another sword bashed it out of the way.

Turning to the side, Jason was met with a giant boot that smashed him in the face, sending him flying. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears. Distantly, he could make out the crest of House Mallister, he didn't know weather it was Patrek or the man whom he shared a name with, Lord Jason.

'But did he have to kick me in the face?' Jason groaned, feeling a thick, heavy liquid dripping down his temple. He knew it was blood; he didn't want to know how much. He knew still had a chance to win, the only way was to fight smart. He was too arrogant before, too dependent on his strength of arm. The boost in strength had recently made him ignore the other aspects of the fight. Now he was learning the hard way.

First there was one, then there were two, then a third joined in, all of them gunning for Clegane. Lord Beric had just finished his opponent off and jumped in to help Thoros of Myr who was struggling to fend of the Strongboar, even with his flaming sword.

Jason took deep breaths from his place on the ground, cursing his fate. That boot to the face affected him more than he liked to admit. By the time he regained his bearings and managed to hold his sword, The Hound was already down in the ground, unconscious. He took three others with him and only Lord Jason Mallister was left from the three on one and even then the aged man looked like he could barely stand.

With a roar, Jason bared his teeth and with what little strength he had left, went on a rampage against Lord Jason surprising the man who struggled heavily to keep up. The man fought valiantly but youth won out this time, a well placed strike sent his sword flying out of his grasp and the Lord of Seagard had no choice but to surrender.

That left three...- no two. Thoros and Crackehall were out, it was he and Beric Dondarrion left. Both of them were dead on their feet and were doing all they could just to stand. Jason was prepared for the fight of his life when the man suddenly winked and dropped his sword.

"I Yield!" he shouted, stunning everyone into silence. Jason stood there mouth-gaped and in shock, only the deafening cheers of the crowd brought him out of it quick enough just in time for the Stormlord to come over and grab his arm, raising it high up in the air, eliciting more cheers.

He didn't know how, or when but he suddenly found himself staring into His brother's proud blue eyes.

"My Brother has done me proud today as my champion! He has proved to us today that he is worthy of serving the family! With his prize of three-thousand Gold Dragons and a royal blade from the armory, I hereby bestow upon you the title Lord! May all men now address you with the respect you've so earned! To Lord Jason Waters!" he roared, prompting the crowd to follow.

'I did it! I did it...' he thought, crying as his name was cheered.

Robin was elated, his brothers had done well for themselves. Jason would be the perfect Leader for the Auror Corps, the Captain of the prestigious Order he planned to fill with bastards all over Westeros. They would be the extension of his will, his powerful right arm and the beacon of all that was just and true when he reigned. When people looked to them they would see Champions of the realm. The Knights of glory.

But every brighter the light, the larger the shadow. There must always be a balance, and he was hoping to use this tourney to find that leader for that balance. He needed someone whose will was tougher than iron, someone who was not afraid to get his hands dirty. He needed a man who could walk between the lines of evil and come back unwavered, someone that would have absolute loyalty to him. Loyalty that was not spell-bound but genuine, and he needed the men to follow him. They would be his servants in Night. The swords in the shadow, the ones who did the dirty work. They would be his left arm, the unsung heroes of westeros. The Dark Knights.

 _ **The Reapers**_

* * *

 **A/N: Still no Targaryen Pov's sorry. I didn't expect the tourney to be so long you know, I just kept typing and typing and the next thing I knew it was already six thousand words! I've decided to end it here and continue with a part 2, where all the things I promised in the previous chapter will take place. Thanks!**


	11. Chapter 11 - The Prince's Tourney II

**Reincarnation**

 **Reincarnation**

 **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and Harry Potter still do not belong to me.**

 **A/N: Hey guys, I'm thankful for both the positive and negative reviews, I truly am. I was reading through some of them and it got me thinking, my god I really am bad at this. Last chapter was riddled with errors, incomplete sentences and grammar mistakes. Chapters 1 to 10 have been re-vamped yet again. I know it's stupid but I just couldn't help myself.**

 **The Two Military Units are now renamed again. I'm not changing it this time, because i really like them, even if they are super-cheesy.**

 **It's abit tedious but i really hope you read through chapters 1-10 again to better understand the story.**

 **Thanks!**

* * *

 **-11-**

He was incredibly large, a giant by all standards. Even Robin had to admit that he would be terrified of the man if he weren't born with his gifts. They called him the Mountain that Rides, Ser Gregor of House Clegane. Robin knew the story, practically everyone did. The man had slaughtered Elia Martell and her two children mercilessly. Young Aegon had his head bashed against the wall, his sister Rhaenys stabbed half-a hundred times until she was nothing but holes in a meatsack.

That was the _official_ story anyway

The Targaryens were mad cunts, but even they did not deserve that, much less their innocent children. Robin personally did not share his father's intense hatred for the dragons. If anything he was indifferent. In his opinion, the Targaryen's only true worth was their name, their so called magic-fire-blood crap? Well maybe that too. He wanted them alive, so they could be brought back into the fold.

Viserys' death was pretty much set in stone. Robin wouldn't risk a mad Targaryen running around in his Kingdom trying to steal his throne. As for the sister, Robin had no doubts that Daenerys would find a great husband in his brother Jason. For the last one...his fate was still undecided, Varys was coming up with something. It was weird, how adamant the Eunuch was in keeping him alive.

Robin sighed, he wondered how all the previous Kings did their jobs properly, he would have loved to have a mentor of sorts. God knows his lazy father couldn't rule a Kingdom for shit, much less Seven. He pretty much left the job to his son and the small council. Robin wished he could do the same, but unfortunately there was no one who would accept his...gifts so easily. The Maesters had done a thorough job of poisoning the minds of the people against the mystical arts.

He hated those old pricks, and he despised the Grandmaester the most out of them all. The old man reminded him of Argus Filch, Severus Snape and Gilderoy Lockhart all mashed up into one perverted old goat. God help him if any one of those three were Reincarnated like he and Ginny was.

Robin shook himself out of his thoughts of the Targaryens and found himself making eye contact with Ser Gregor, who's horse looked like it would rather kick itself in the head than let the vile man sit his arse on it's back for one more second. Robin snorted, what a sight would that be. Reaching out with his mind, Robin projected tiny ripples of calm thoughts into the horse's own, smiling when it whinnied and stomped it's foot.

Ser Gregor had done well for himself it seemed with knocking Ser Garlan of his seat in four tilts, breaking his lance on the Reachman's sternum and sending him flying spectacularly. Robin was a tad bit impressed at the skill shown, he always thought that the Mountain was nothing but a dumb cunt with a slow mind. Now the giant had to face Ser Barristan himself, who also managed to get into the Semi-Finals by knocking off an exceptionally skilled Hedge-Knight.

Uncle Jaime had secured his place early on, knocking Ser Robar Royce off his horse quite easily in a single strike, causing the man to land in a heap. The look in the Knight's eyes suggested a new intense dislike for the Golden-Haired Kingsguard.

"Alright alright! Piss off now! Start the next one before I piss myself!" King Robert shouted, prompting the Mountain to growl in rage. Robin raised an eyebrow at the sheer audacity, he wanted nothing more than to subject the so called knight before him to an hour of Cruciatus.

"Off you go!" Robin ordered with a wave of his hand, not wanting to be in the man's presence any longer.

Alf the Herald blew his horn, allowing the semi-finals to be announced without interruption.

"Are you sure that Ser Barristan can win brother?" Joff asked him, still wide eyed at being so close to the famed giant.

"Hah! That old man has won more single combat than any man alive! Size doesn't mean shite against that boy!" Robert answered for him, roaring in laughter at the prospect of the Mountain coming out the victor of the match.

As much faith as Robin had in his personal arse-kicker of a teacher, he wasn't quite sure that Ser Barristan was up to the challenge. As good as he was, even the old man could not defeat the effects of time. He hid it well, but the Crown Prince could see it. The way his back hunched when he thought no one was looking. The harsh deep breaths he took and the copious amount of sweat dripping from his head when he took the helmet off.

It was anybody's game now. The remaning four competitors, the Mountain, his uncle Jaime, Barristan and one Gerold Dayne, a Knight from Starfall.

The last two competitors rode quickly to the Royal Stand, taking off their helms to bow, before getting in position. Robin sat up straight in his seat, quite interested in the winner. The name Dayne after all quite famous for producing Swords of Morning. Although this one was no bearer of Dawn Robin had no doubt his skill was great.

The resulting match was quick, too quick for his liking. In an extraordinary show of skill, Ser Jaime feinted a head shot before twisting the lance downward with a full body lunge in the last possible moment, striking with the lance with so much force the opponent was quite literally, sent flying, along with his helmet. The Kingsguard had won in a single tilt, causing cheers to erupt from the smallfolk and nobles alike.

"Bah! So much for the fucking Daynes! Disappointments the lot of them!" King Robert said out loud, not really caring whether his voice carried.

Robin cringed in his seat, resisting the urge to throw a stupefy at his old man to get him to shut up. He settled for a narrow eyed glare, unfortunately its effects reduced by his father's state of sobriety. The Fat King was already pissed drunk.

Calling for a servant, Robin ordered him to switch his father's wine with sweet water, not wanting the old man to pass out in his seat and end up looking like a right idiot.

Now for the next semi-finals.

The Mountain once again rode up to the Royal Stand, opening the front of his furnace-like helm and bowed before the royals, Ser Barristan doing the same. The crowd was once again as quiet as night. It was quite the interesting show, having the monster himself face against the the best of the best.

Seventeen, it took seventeen tilts to determine the winner. They even had to borrow lances from the other competitors due to shortage. Again and again the two Knights rode. Sometimes they hit, sometimes the missed but not once they fell till the final ride.

And fall they did. It was a draw as both Mountain and Man smashed into the dirt, much to the disappointment of all others. It was determined that neither would advance into the final round, allowing Ser Jaime by default, to win.

"Well that's just not happening." Robin said, standing up, drawing his family's attention.

"Is there something wrong son?" Cersei asked, brow furrowed in worry.

"Well mother, such an... outcome is quite boring don't you think? I think Uncle deserves a worthy opponent for the finals don't you?" Robin replied, his grin turning just a tad violent.

"Wait a moment-" Cersei started in clear disapproval before she was interrupted.

"I agree! Since it's your nameday! Go and knock that blonde bastard of his high horse won't you!" Robert yelled, laughing out loud as he signaled the herald to announce the last minute finals.

"Robert!" Cersei snarled, Robin didn't know which _Robert_ she was snarling at but the woman looked pissed.

"Don't worry mother, it's just a friendly tilt, If he wins then he wins, same goes for me, it's all fun in the spirit of the tournament!" Robin said, trying to convince his mother.

"Just...be careful won't you?" she sighed, hugging her son close. The Queen sometimes hated the stuborness her son inherited from both his parents. She knew she wasn't going to win this one.

Little Tommen and Myrcella came running straight to him, quickly latching on to his sweat stained silks.

"You're going to fight Uncle?" the princess asked, her bright blue eyes wide opened in awe. The girl had never seen her brother participate in an actual tourney before and was practically jumping on the spot at the chance to finally witness him in action. Tommen followed his sister's lead, head bobbing as Myrcella spoke.

"Just a friendly tilt little ones, go back to your seats now." he prompted, crouching to ruffle their hairs. Patting their behinds, Robin smiled as the two children ran back to their seats and waited eagerly.

* * *

Jaime Lannister's grin stretched from ear to ear as he spotted the prat of a Prince got into his plain castle-forged armor. He couldn't believe it, the boy actually thought he could stand a chance at a win! The Prince looked confident at he got atop his horse gracefully, eliciting a round of cheers from the crowd. It was the perfect opportunity. From what he could see the plated armor had close to no weakspots that were easy to hit.

The helmet though, presented an excellent opportunity. The way it was fastened hastily left quite the gaping hole in the jugular. A direct hit at full speed atop his stallion would no doubt pierce clean through, and if he miraculously survived, Jaime was sure that the little shite wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.

The diabolical plan started to take root in his black heart as he glared full of hate through the helmet's slit. Yes... it was the perfect 'accident'. His sister would no doubt be terribly inconsolable for months, but Jaime always knew how to handle her. The King wouldn't be able to touch him, the Lannister name held too much weight for Robert to simply order his execution.

Riding towards the royal stand, Jaime bowed before the royals, gazing deeply into his sister's conflicted eyes. They were so much like his own, except Jaime's were filled with determination instead. He'd kill the Baratheon boy, leaving his own son Joffery to ascend to the throne when the time came, and if the bastard were to interfere, Jaime would lob his head off as well.

"Good luck Uncle, may the best man win." His nephew's soft velvety voice sounded out from across them. Jaime merely nodded with narrowed eyes before he spun his horse, heading towards his position.

Taking a deep breath, the Kingslayer's mind sharpened, his focus rising with every controlled breath. His eyes never left the target, that small area just big enough for the tip of his lance to strike true. His grip tightened so hard he imagined his knuckles were as white as snow.

Time slowed down as his concentration reached its peak. He could feel the vibrations from the crowd's incessant screaming. The Sun's rays were uncaring as it beat down upon his plate, almost cooking him in his saddle.

Jaime swore his horse was flying when the Horn finally blew, the sound of it spurring both competitors to take speed. The gap was closing, the sound of hoofs beating upon the blood-stained sand were all he could hear, his mind blocking out everything else.

Changing his grip, Jaime gritted his teeth as he used every ounce of his strength to hold the lance upright as his grip moved further away from the tip increasing the effort to handle it exponentially. Making use of the extra length he now had, Jaime thrust his lance early, trying to catch his sister's son off guard. His heart sang with happiness as the lance got closer to his intended target.

Then his whole world turn dark.

* * *

Robin tossed his helmet aside, raising his lance easily as the crowd cheered him on. He could see his siblings discard all sense of propriety as they yelled as loud as their tiny lungs allowed, jumping up and down as they shouted his name. Even his mother had stood up, spilling wine all over the wood as she clapped, although the woman looked a tad bit worried for her twin brother. His drunk old man was wobbling as he joined the queen in celebration, being the more vocal of the two.

As the crowd started chanting his name, the prince made his way to his unconscious uncle as the squires hurried to put him on a stretcher. Robin's face slowly morphed to stone as he stared at the indentation in his uncle's chestplate. In his mind he was still trying to process the thought that dominated his mind since his lance saw his uncle flying through the air.

His own Uncle had tried to kill him.

It was true, and obvious only to him and the very observant. The true reason why he'd even participate in the so called 'friendly bout' was to test his Uncle. The past few months had saw a radical change in his Uncle's already abnormal behavior. He was no longer subtle in his hate-filled glares everytime he laid eyes on the black haired members of the Baratheon family. Very abnormal indeed, perhaps his hate only extended to children whom resembled the King?

Even little Myrcella was a recipient of hate. The poor girl came running to him once, her cheeks wet with tears as she complained that Uncle Jaime had yelled at her when she accidentally bumped into him in the hallway. Robin had set out immediately to chastise his Uncle when old man Arryn called for him. He forgot about the incident soon after.

He remembered sparring with his Uncle was always awkward as the man went all out every match, only to get tired as Robin got him into a stalemate. He always knew his uncle disliked him but this?

He had purposely ordered Jason to fasten his helmet loosely. Robin wanted to create the perfect opportunity, and to see if the Kingslayer would take it. He imagined Jaime had a large smile on his face when he allowed the Lance to almost reach his throat.

He took large amounts of satisfaction in sending his Uncle flying. Robin would have very harsh words with the man when he awoke.

* * *

Oberyn Martell snorted as the Kingslayer was defeated by his nephew. The boy had talent it seemed, the way he dodged the lance at the very last minute was a thing of beauty, as much as the Prince of Dorne hated to admit it.

So this was the future King eh?

Oberyn stroke his unruly beard in deep thought. From what he'd learn from his many trips to the Inns, bars and brothels, the Crown Prince was an old man stuck in a child's body. The Ideas he'd put forth, the laws that were already passed down from the Throne had changed King's Landing immensely, and for the better it seemed.

The Royal Capital was no longer a stinking, shit-pile of a city for one. There were communal baths, more gold-cloaks, even the massive ruins of the Dragonpit atop the Hill of Rhaenys was being completely demolished to pave way for something new.

Then there were the _other_ stories. Stories of the Prince during the Rebellion. Oberyn spat on the floor and laughed when he heard the ridiculous shit his Brother Doran's bodyguard Hotah told him. A child of nine slaughtering scores of Ironborn? The gods calling down a Storm for the 'divinely-ordained' Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms?

What utter lies.

Oberyn, in his free time had mingled with the small-folk, trying to get a sense of how the boy was perceived in King's Landing. He was surprised to find out most thought he was akin to a savior. The others who didn't accused him of being a secret witch, or funnily enough, just didn't believe the stories.

Oberyn himself was one of those people, now he wasn't so sure. The long drink he shared with Ser Arys, who _was_ there on the front lines swore to him on his life that every story was the absolute truth had shaken his views.

This future King would be a danger to the plans the Martells had in works.

As the Kingslayer was shamefully dragged away like a corpse, Oberyn quickly looked around, trying to find his dear Elia. He was amused to see her with that bastard boy again, conversing loudly as they talked about the recent tilt.

Slowly, a plan started to take root in his mind.

Perhaps...a little leverage - no what was the word again? Ah yes...and 'alliance' maybe another one could take place between the two families through their respective bastards?

"We'll see..." he muttered to himself, eyes glued on the two young children.

* * *

 ** _To Be Continued_**


	12. Sup Guys, just an AN

**A/N:** Sup DingDongs, hope you guys are doing good. Anyways, I'm gonna go straight to the point. The story sucks, I mean it REALLY does, I mean I've read it just yesterday and couldn't stop cringing. What the fuck was I thinking? Season 8 jump-started my need to write again, hopefully forever this time.

But I swear to god I have no idea (or want to) how to continue from this clusterfuck. The only way I can is if I revamp the entire story, take out certain characters and insert maybe an OC or two, another Baratheon Bastard maybe. But don't worry, all the characters will stay exactly as they are in terms of their personalities and all that. Well maybe I'll tone Harry down a bit. Brother's a little bit too overpowered there don't you think? Loud as fuck too LOL. Jaime will go through a bit of changes as well, making him try to murder the Crown Prince was a dumb move on my part.

Too many changes to write here, I have the ideas noted down but I'll only do it if the people want because let's face it. Who would wanna write a story nobody wants?

What do you think? Should I? Or should I just not bother? Let me hear your thoughts on this.

If I decide to continue should I post as a new story or just re-write from this?

Yeah i realize how ridiculous it is to post a third re-write. Anyways, review and let me know.

FEEL FREE TO PM ME FOR ANYTHING. But seriously don't be dicks alright? I've already had this psycho threaten to chop my mom's head off, that's just creepy. But why her tho?

POLL IS UP (I forgot we even had one)


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